EDITION  LIMITED    TO  100,000  COPIES 

THE -HONORABLE 

PETER  STIRLING 


AND 


WHAT  PEOPLE  THOUGHT  OF  HIM 


BY 

PAUL  LEICESTER  FORD 


iij 


NEW  YORK 

INTERNATIONAL  BOOK  AND  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1894, 
BY  HENRY  HOLT  &  CO. 


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THOSE  DEAR  TO  MI, 
AT 

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TURNERS,  NEW   YORK; 

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269285 


-' 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER  I. 
ROMANCE  AND  REALITY. 

MR.  PIERCE  was  talking.  Mr.  Pierce  was  generally 
talking.  From  the  day  that  his  proud  mamma  had  given 
him  a  sweetmeat  for  a  very  inarticulate  "  goo  "which 
she  translated  into  "papa,"  Mr.  Pierce  had  found  speech 
profitable.  He  had  been  able  to  talk  his  nurse  into 
granting  him  every  indulgence.  He  had  talked  his  way 
through  school  and  college.  He  had  talked  his  wife  into 
marrying  him.  He  had  talked  himself  to  the  head  of  a 
large  financial  institution.  He  had  talked  his  admission 
into  society.  Conversationally,  Mr.  Pierce  was  a  suc- 
cess. He  could  discuss  Schopenhauer  or  cotillion  favors ; 
St  Paul,  the  apostle,  or  St.  Paul,  the  railroad.  He  had 
cultivated  the  art  as  painstakingly  as  a  professional 
musician.  He  had  countless  anecdotes,  which  he  in- 
troduced to  his  auditors  by  a  "that  reminds  me  of.'"  He 
had  endless  quotations,  with  the  quotation  marks  omitted. 
Finally  he  had  an  idea  on  every  subject,  and  generally  a 
theory  as  well.  Carlyle  speaks  somewhere  of  an  "inar- 
ticulate genius."  He  was  not  alluding  to  Mr.  Pierce. 

Like  most  good  talkers,  Mr.  Pierce  was  a  tongue 
despot.  Conversation  must  take  his  course,  or  he  would 
none  of  it.  Generally  he  controlled.  If  an  upstart  en- 
deavored to  turn  the  subject,  Mr.  Pierce  waited  till  the 
intruder  ^ad  done  speaking,  and  then  quietly,  but  firmly 
would  remark:  "Relative  to  the  subject  we  were  dis- 
cussing a  moment  ago — "  If  any  one  ventured  to  speak, 
even  sotto  voce,  before  Mr.  Pierce  had  finished  all  he  had 


'<  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

to  say,  he  would  at  once  cease  his  monologue,  wait  till 
the  interloper  had  finished,  and  then  resume  his  lecture 
just  where  he  had  been  interrupted.  Only  once  had  Mr. 
Pierce  found  this  method  to  fail  in  quelling  even  the 
sturdiest  of  rivals.  The  recollection  of  that  day  is  still  a 
mortification  to  him.  It  had  happened  on  the  deck  of  an 
ocean  steamer.  For  thirty  minutes  he  had  fought 
his  antagonist  bravely.  Then,  humbled  and  vanquished, 
he  had  sought  the  smoking-room,  to  moisten  his  parched 
throat,  and  solace  his  wounded  spirit,  with  a  star  cock- 
tail. He  had  at  last  met  his  superior.  He  yielded  the 
deck  to  the  fog-horn. 

At  the  present  moment  Mr.  Pierce  was  having  things 
very  much  his  own  way.  Seated  in  the  standing-room 
of  a  small  yacht,  were  some  eight  people.  With  a  leaden 
sky  overhead,  and  a  leaden  sea  about  it,  the  boat  gently 
rose  and  fell  with  the  ground  swell.  Three  miles  away 
could  be  seen  the  flash-light  marking  the  entrance  to  the 
harbor.  But  though  slowly  gathering  clouds  told  that 
wind  was  coming,  the  yacht  now  lay  becalmed,  drifting 
with  the  ebb  tide.  The  pleasure-seekers  had  been  to- 
gether all  day,  and  were  decidedly  talked  out.  For  the 
last  hour  they  had  been  singing  songs — always  omitting 
Mr.  Pierce,  who  never  so  trifled  with  his  vocal  organs. 
During  this  time  he  had  been  restless.  At  one  point  he 
had  attempted  to  deliver  his  opinion  on  the  /elation  of 
verse  to  music,  but  an  unfeeling  member  of  the  party 
had  struck  up  "John  Brown's  Body,"  and  his  lecture 
had  ended,  in  the  usual  serial  style,  at  the  most  interest* 
ing  point,  without  even  the  promise  of  a  "continuation 
in  our  next."  Finally,  however,  the  singers  had  sung 
themselves  hoarse  in  the  damp  night  air,  the  last 
"Spanish  Cavalier"  had  been  safely  restored  to  his 
inevitable  true-love,  and  the  sound  of  voices  and  banjo 
floated  away  over  the  water.  Mr.  Pierce's  moment  had 
come. 

Some  one,  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  mention  the  sex, 
had  given  a  sigh,  and  regretted  that  nineteenth  century 
life  was  so  prosaic  and  unromantic.  Clearing  his  throat, 
quite  as  much  to  pre-empt  the  pause  as  to  articulate  the 
better,  Mr.  Pierce  spoke  : 

"That  modern  times  are  less  romantic  and  interesting 
than  bygone  centuries  is  a  fallacy.  From  time  imme- 


ROMANCE  AND  REALITY.  3 

morial,  love  and  the  battle  between  evil  and  good  are  the 
two  things  which  have  given  the  world  romance  and 
interest.  Every  story,  whether  we  find  it  in  the  myths 
of  the  East,  the  folklore  of  Europe,  the  poems  of  the 
Troubadours,  or  in  our  newspaper  of  this  morning,  is 
based  on  one  or  the  other  of  these  factors,  or  on  both 
combined.  Now  it  is  a  truism  that  love  never  played  so 
important  a  part  as  now  in  shaping  the  destinies  of 
men  and  women,  for  this  is  the  only  century  in  which  it 
has  obtained  even  a  partial  divorce  from  worldly  and 
parental  influences.  Moreover  the  great  battle  of  society, 
to  crush  wrong  and  elevate  right,  was  never  before  so 
bravely  fought,  on  so  many  fields,  by  so  many  people  as 
to-day.  But  because  our  lovers  and  heroes  no  longer 
brag  to  the  world  of  their  doings  ;  no  longer  stand  in  the 
moonlight,  and  sing  of  their  'dering  does/  the  world 
assumes  that  the  days  of  tourneys  and  guitars  were  the 
only  days  of  true  love  and  noble  deeds.  Even  our  pro- 
fessed writers  of  romance  join  in  the  cry.  '  Draw  life  as  it 
is,'  they  say.  *We  find  nothing  in  it  but  mediocrity, 
selfishness,  and  money-loving/  By  all  means  let  us  have 
truth  in  our  novels,  but  there  is  truth  and  truth.  Most  of 
New  York's  firemen  presumably  sat  down  at  noon  to-day 
to  a  dinner  of  corned-beef  and  cabbage.  But  perhaps  one 
of  them  at  the  same  moment  was  fighting  his  way 
through  smoke  and  flame,  to  save  life  at  the  risk  of  his 
own.  Boiled  dinner  and  burned  firemen  are  equally  true. 
Are  they  equally  worthy  of  description?  What  would 
the  age  of  chivalry  be,  if  the  chronicles  had  recorded  only 
the  brutality,  filthiness  and  coarseness  of  their  contem- 
poraries ?  The  wearing  of  underclothing  unwashed  till  it 
fell  to  pieces  ;  the  utter  lack  of  soap ;  the  eating  with 
fingers ;  the  drunkenness  and  foul-mouthedness  that 
drove  women  from  the  table  at  a  certain  point,  and  so  in- 
augurated the  custom,  now  continued  merely  as  an  excuse 
for  a  cigar  ?  Some  one  said  once  that  a  man  finds  in  a 
great  city  just  the  qualities  he  takes  to  it.  That's  true  of 
romance  as  well.  Modern  novelists  don't  find  beauty 
and  nobility  in  life,  because  they  don't  look  for  them. 
They  predicate  from  their  inner  souls  that  the  world  is 
'  cheap  and  nasty '  and  that  is  what  they  find  it  to  be. 
There  is  more  true  romance  in  a  New  York  tenement 
than  there  ever  was  in  a  baron's  tower — braver  battles, 


4  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

truer  love,  nobler  sacrifices.  Romance  is  all  about  us, 
but  we  must  have  eyes  for  it.  You  are  young  people, 
with  your  lives  before  you.  Let  me  give  you  a  little 
advice.  As  you  go  through  life  look  for  the  fine  things — • 
not  for  the  despicable.  It  won't  make  you  any  richer. 
It  won't  make  you  famous.  It  won't  better  yc  i  in  a 
worldly  way.  But  it  will  make  your  lives  happier,  for  by 
the  time  you  are  my  age,  you'll  love  humanity,  and  look 
upon  the  world  and  call  it  good.  And  you  will  have 
found  romance  enough  to  satisfy  all  longings  for  mediaeval 
tirjaes." 

/^**  But,  dear,  one  cannot  imagine  some  people  ever 
finding  anything  romantic  in  life,"  said  a  voice,  which, 
had  it  been  translated  into  words  would  have  said,  "I 
know  you  are  right,  of  course,  and  you  will  convince  me  at 
once,  but  in  my  present  state  of  unenlightenment  it  seems 
to  me  that — "  the  voice,  already  low,  became  lower.  "  Now" 
— a  moment's  hesitation — "there  is — Peter  Stirling." 

/'Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "That  is  a  very  case  in 
point,  and  proves  just  what  I've  been  saying.  Peter  is 
like  the  novelists  of  whom  I've  been  talking.  I  don't 
suppose  we  ought  to  blame  him  for  it.  What  can  you  ex- 
pect of  a  son  of  a  mill-foreman,  who  lives  the  first  sixteen 
years  of  his  life  in  a  mill-village  ?  If  his  hereditary  ten- 
dencies gave  him  a  chance,  such  an  experience  would 
end  it.  If  one  lives  in  the  country,  one  may  get  fine 
thoughts  by  contact  with  Nature.  In  great  cities  one  is 
developed  and  stimulated  by  art,  music,  literature,  and 
contact  with  clever  people.  ,  But  a  mill-village  is  one  vast 

(expanse  of  mediocrity  and  prosaicness,  and  it  would  take 
a  bigger  nature  than  Peter's  to  recognize  the  beautiful  in 
such  a  life.  In  truth,  he  is  as  limited,  as  exact,  and  as 
unimaginative  as  the  machines- of  his  own  village.  Peter 
has  no  romance  in  him ;  hence  he  will  never  find  it,  nor 
increase  it  in  this  world.  This  very  case  only  proves  my 
point ;  that  to  meet  romance  one  must  have  it.  Boccac- 
cio said  he  did  not  write  novels,  but  lived  them.  Try  to 
imagine  Peter  living  a  romance  !  He  could  be  concerned 
in  a  dozen  and  never  dream  it.  They  would  not  interest 
him  even  if  he  did  notice  them.  And  I'll  prove  it  to  you/' 
Mr.  Pierce  raised  his  voice.  "  We  are  discussing  romance, 
Peter.  "  Won't  you  stop  that  unsocial  tramp  of  yours  long 
enough  to  give  us  your  opinion  on  the  subject  ?  " 


APPEARANCES.  5 

A  moment's  silence  followed,  and  then  a  singularly 
dear  voice,  coming  from  the  forward  part  of  the  yacht, 
replied  :  "I  never  read  them,  Mr.  Pierce." 

Mr.  Pierce  laughed  quietly.  "See,"  he  said,  "that 
fellow  never  dreams  of  there*  being  romance  outside  of 
novels.  He  is  so  prosaic  that  he  is  unconscious  of  any* 
thing  bigger  than  his  own  little  sphere  of  life.  Peter  may 
obtain  what  he  wants  in  this  world,  for  his  desires  will  be 
of  the  kind  to  be  won  by  work  and  money.  But  he  will 
never  be  controlled  by  a  great  idea,  nor  be  the  hero  of  a 
true  romance/' 

Steele  once  wrote  that  the  only  difference  between  the 
Catholic  Church  and  the  Church  of  England  was,  that  the 
former  was  infallible  and  the  latter  n~ver  wrong.  Mr. 
Pierce  would  hardly  have  claimed  for  himself  either  of 
these  qualities.  He  was  too  accustomed  in  his  business 
to  writing,  "E.  and  O.  E."  above  his  initials,  to  put  much 
faith  in  human  dicta.  But  in  the  present  instance  he  felt 
sure  of  what  he  said,  and  the  little  group  clearly  agreed. 
If  they  were  right,  this  story  is  like  that  recounted  in 
Mother  Goose,  /hich  was  ended  before  it  was  begun. 
But  Mr.  Pierce  had  said  that  rom,  »ce  is  everywhere  to 
those  who  have  the  spirit  of  it  in  them.  Perhaps  in  this 
case  the  spirit  was  lacking  in  his  judges — not  in  Peter 
Stirling. 


CHAPTER  II. 
APPEARANCES. 

THE  unconscious  illustration  of  Mr.  Pierce's  theory  was 
pacing  backwards  and  forwards  on  the  narrow  space 
between  the  cuddy-roof  and  the  gunwale,  which  custom 
dignifies  with  the  name  of  deck.  Six  strides  forward  and 
turn.  Six  strides  aft  and  turn.  That  was  the  extent  of 
the  beat.  Yet  had  Peter  been  on  sentry  duty,  he  could 
not  have  continued  it  more  regularly  or  persistently.  If 
he  were  walking  off  his  supper,  as  most  of  those  seated 
aft  would  have  suggested,  the  performance  was  not  par- 
ticularly interesting.  The  limit  and  rapidity  of  the  walk 
resembled  the  tramp  of  a  confined  animal,  exercising  its 
last  meal.  But  when  one  stands  in  front  of  the  lion's 


6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

cage,  and  sees  that  restless  and  tireless  stride,  one  cannot 
but  wonder  how  much  of  it  is  due  to  the  last  shin-bone, 
and  how  much  to  the  wild  and  powerful  nature  under  the 
tawny  skin.  The  question  occurs  because  the  nature  and 
antecedents  of  the  lion  are  known.  For  this  same  reason 
the  yachters  were  a  unit  in  agreeing  that  Stirling's  un- 
ceasing walk  was  merely  a  digestive  promenade.  The 
problem  was,  whether  they  were  right  ?  Or  whether,  to 
apply  Mr.  Pierce's  formula,  they  merely  imposed  their 
own  frame  of  mind  in  place  of  Stirling's,  and  decided, 
since  their  sole  reason  for  walking  at  the  moment  would 
be  entirely  hygienic,  that  he  too  must  be  striding  from 
the  same  cause  ?  * 

Dr.  Holmes  tells  us  that  when  James  and  Thomas  con- 
verse there  are  really  six  talkers.     First,  James  as  James 
thinks   he  is,  and    Thomas   as    Thomas    thinks    he    is. 
Second,  James  as  Thomas  thinks  him,    and  Thomas  as 
James  thinks  him.     Finally,  there  are  James  and  Thomas 
as  they  really  are.     Since  this  is  neither  an  autobiography  > 
nor  an  inspired  story,  the  world's  view  of  Peter  Stirling  \ 
must  be  adopted  without  regard  to  its  accuracy.     And  i 
because  this  view  was  the  sum  of  his  past  and  personal, 
these  elements  must  be  computed  before  we  can  know 
on  what  the  world  based  its  conclusions  concerning  him. 

His  story  was  as  ordinary  and  prosaic  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Pierce  seemed  to  think  his  character.  Neither  riches  nor 
poverty  had  put  a  shaping  hand  to  it.  The  only  child  of 
his  widowed  mother,  he  had  lived  in  one  of  the  smaller 
manufacturing  cities  of  New  England  a  life  such  as  falls 
to  most  lads.  Unquestionably  he  had  been  rather  more 
shielded  from  several  forms  of  temptation  than  had  most 
of  his  playmates,  for  his  mother's  isolation  had  made  him 
not  merely  her  son,  but  very  largely  her  companion.  In 
certain  ways  this  had  tended  to  make  him  more  manly 
than  the  average  fellow  of  his  age,  but  in  others  it  had 
retarded  his  development ;  and  this  backwardness  had 
been  further  accentuated  by  a  deliberate  mind,  which 
hardly  kept  pace  with  his  physical  growth.  His  school 
record  was  fair  :  "Painstaking,  but  slow,"  was  the  report 
in  studies.  "Exemplary,"  in  conduct.  He  was  not  a 
leader  among  the  boys,  but  he  was  very  generally  liked. 
A  characteristic  fact,  for  good  or  bad,  was  that  he  had  no 
enemies.  From  the  clergyman  to  the  "hired  help/ 


APPEARANCES.  J 

everybody  had  a  kind  word  for  him,  but  tinctured  by  no 
enthusiasm.  All  spoke  of  him  as  "a  good  boy,"  and 
when  this  was  said,  they  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

One  important  exception  to  this  statement  is  worthy  of 
note.  The  girls  of  the  High  School  never  liked  him.  If 
they  had  been  called  upon  for  reasons,  few  could  have 
given  a  tangible  one.  At  their  age,  everything  this  world 
contains,  be  it  the  Falls  of  Niagara,  or  a  stick  of  chew- 
ing gum,  is  positively  or  negatively  "nice."  For  some 
crime  of  commission  or  omission,  Peter  had  been  weighed 
and  found  wanting.  "  He  isn't  nice,"  was  the  universal 
verdict  of  the  scholars  who  daily  filed  through  the  door, 
which  the  town  selectmen,  with  the  fine  contempt  of  the 
narrow  man  for  his  unpaid  "help,"  had  labelled,  "For 
Females. "  If  they  had  said  that  he  was  ' '  perfectly  horrid, " 
there  might  have  been  a  chance  for  him.  But  the  subject 
was  begun  and  ended  with  these  three  words.  Such  terse- 
ness in  the  sex  was  remarkable  and  would  have  deserved 
a  psychological  investigation  had  it  been  based  on  any 
apparent  data.  But  women's  opinions  are  so  largely  a 
matter  of  instinct  and  feeling,  and  so  little  of  judgment 
and  induction,  that  an  analysis  of  the  mental  processes  of 
the  hundred  girls  who  had  reached  this  one  conclusion, 
would  probably  have  revealed  in  each  a  different  method 
of  obtaining  this  product.  The  important  point  is  to  rec- 
ognize this  consensus  of  opinion,  and  to  note  its  bearing 
on  the  development  of  the  lad. 

That  Peter  could  remain  ignorant  of  this  feeling  was 
not  conceivable.  It  puzzled  him  not  a  little  when  he  first 
began  to  realize  the  prejudice,  and  he  did  his  best  to  re- 
verse it.  Unfortunately  he  took  the  very  worst  way.  Had 
he  avoided  the  girls  persistently  and  obviously,  he  might 
have  interested  them  intensely,  for  nothing  is  more  dif- 
ficult for  a  woman  to  understand  than  a  woman-hater  ; 
and  from  the  days  of  mother  Eve  the  unknown  is  rumored 
to  have  had  for  her  sex  a  powerful  fascination.  But  he 
tried  to  win  their  friendship  by  humbleness  and  kindness, 
and  so  only  made  himself  the  more  cheap  in  their  eyes. 
H  Fatty  Peter,"  as  they  jokingly  called  him,  epitomized  in 
two  words  their  contempt  of  him. 

Nor  did  things  mend  when  he  went  to  Harvard. 
Neither  his  mother's  abilities  nor  his  choice  were  able  to 
secure  for  him  an  tntree  to  the  society  which  Cambridge 


8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

and  Boston  dole  out  stintedly  to  certain  privileged  col- 
legians. Every  Friday  afternoon  he  went  home,  to  return 
by  an  early  train  Monday  morning.  In  his  first  year  it 
is  to*  be  questioned  if  he  exchanged  ten  words  with 
women  whose  names  were  known  to  him,  except  during 
these  home-visits.  That  this  could  long  continue,  was 
impossible.  In  his  second  year  he  was  several  times 
taken  by  his  chum,  ^Watts^D^Alloi,  to  call.  But  always 
with  one  result.  Invariably  Peter  would  be  found  talking 
to  Mamma,  or,  better  still,  from  his  point  of  view,  with 
Pater-familias,  while  Watts  chatted  with  the  presumptive 
attractions.  Watts  laughed  at  him  always.  Laughed 
still  more  when  one  of  these  calls  resulted  in  a  note,  "re- 
questing the  pleasure  "  of  Mr.  Peter  Stirling's  company  to 
dinner.  It  was  Watts  who  dictated  the  acceptance,  helped 
Peter  put  the  finishing  touches  to  his  toilet,  and  eventu- 
ally landed  him  safely  in  Mrs.  Purdie's  parlor.  His  de- 
scription to  the  boys  that  night  of  what  followed  is  worthy 
of  quotation  : 

"The  old  fellow  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  P.,  O.  K. 
Something  was  said  about  the  weather,  and  then  Mrs.  P. 
said,  *  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  lady  you  are  to  take  down, 
Mr.  Stirling,  but  I  shan't  let  you  talk  to  her  before  dinner. 
9  Look  about  you  and  take  your  choice  of  whom  you 
''would  like  to  meet  ? '  Chum  gave  one  agonized  look 
round  the  room.  There  wasn't  a  woman  over  twenty- 
five  in  sight  !  And  what  do  you  think  the  wily  old  fox 
said  ?  Call  him  simple  !  Not  by  a  circumstance  !  A 
society  beau  couldn't  have  done  it  better.  Can't  guess  ? 
Well,  he  said,  '  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you,  Mrs.  Purdie/  Fact ! 
Of  course  she  took  it  as  a  compliment,  and  was  as  pleased 
as  could  be.  Well,  I  don't  know  how  on  earth  he  ever 
got  through  his  introduction  or  how  he  ever  reached  the 
dining-room,  for  my  inamorata  was  so  pretty  that  I 
thought  of  nothing  till  we  were  seated,  and  the  host  took 
her  attention  for  a  moment.  Then  I  looked  across  at 
chum,  who  was  directly  opposite,  to  see  how  he  was 
getting  on.  Oh,  you  fellows  would  have  died  to  see  it ! 
There  he  sat,  looking  straight  out  into  vacancy,  so  plainly 
laboring  for  something  to  say  that  I  nearly  exploded. 
Twice  he  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  and  each  time  closed 
them  again.  The  girl  of  course  looked  surprised,  but  she 
caught  my  eye,  and  entered  into  the  joke,  and  we  both 


APPEARANCES.  9 

waited  for  developments.  Then  she  suddenly  said  to 
him,  '  Now  let's  talk  about  something  else/  It  was  too 
much  for  me.  I  nearly  choked.  I  don't  know  what  fol- 
lowed. Miss  Jevons  turned  and  asked  me  something. 
But  when  I  looked  again,  I  could  see  the  perspiration 
standing  on  Peter's  forehead,  while  the  conversation  went 
by  jerks  and  starts  as  if  it  was  riding  over  a  ploughed 
field.  Miss  Callender,  whom  he  took  in,  told  me  after- 
wards that  she  had  never  had  a  harder  evening's  work  in 
her  life.  Nothing  but  '  yeses '  and  '  noes '  to  be  got 
from  him.  She  wouldn't  believe  what  I  said  of  the  old 
fellow." 

Three  or  four  such  experiences  ended  Peters  dining 
out.  He  was  recognized  as  unavailable  material.  He 
received  an  occasional  card  to  a  reception  or  a  dance,  for 
anything  in  trousers  passes  muster  for  such  functions. 
He  always  went  when  invited,  and  was  most  dutiful  in 
the  counter-calls.  In  fact,  society  was  to  him  a  duty 
which  he  discharged  with  the  same  plodding  determina- 
tion with  which  he  did  his  day's  studies.  He  never 
dreamed  of  taking  his  social  moments  frivolously.  He 
did  not  recognize  that  society  is  very  much  like  a  beeN 
colony — stinging  those  who  approached  it  shyly  and  \ 
quietly,  but  to  be  mastered  by  a  bold  beating  of  tin  pans.^/ 
He  neither  danced  nor  talked,  and  so  he  was  shunted  by 
the  really  pleasant  girls  and  clever  women,  and  passed 
his  time  with  wall-flowers  and  unbearables,  who,  in  their 
normal  sourness,  regarded  and,  perhaps,  unconsciously 
made  him  feel,  hardly  to  his  encouragement,  that  his 
companionship  was  a  sort  of  penance.  If  he  had  been 
asked,  at  the  end  of  his  senior  year,  what  he  thought  of 
young  women  and  society,  he  would  probably  have  stig- 
matized them,  as  he  himself  had  been  formerly:  "not 
nice."  All  of  which,  again  to  apply  Mr.  Pierce's  theory, 
merely  meant  that  the  phases  which  his  own  character- 
istics had  shown  him,  had  re-acted  on  his  own  mind,  and 
had  led  him  to  conclude  that  girls  and  society  were 
equally  unendurable. 

The  condition  was  a  dangerous  one,  and  if  psychology 
had  its  doctors  they  would  have  predicted  a  serious  heart 
illness  in  store  for  him.  How  serious,  would  depend 
largely  on  whether  the  fever  ran  its  natural  course,  or 
whether  it  was  driven  inwards  by  disappointment.  If 


XO  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

these  doctors  had  ceased  studying  his  mental  condition 
and  glanced  at  his  physical  appearance,  they  would  have 
had  double  cause  to  shake  their  heads  doubtingly. 

Peter  was  not  good-looking.  He  was  not  even,  in  a 
sense,  attractive.  In  spite  of  his  taking  work  so  hardly 
and  life  so  seriously,  he  was  entirely  too  stout.  This  gave 
a  heaviness  to  his  face  that  neutralized  his  really  pleasant 
brown  eyes  and  thick  brown  hair,  which  were  his  best 
features.  Manly  the  face  was,  but,  except  when  speaking 
in  unconscious  moments,  dull  and  unstriking.  A  fellow 
three  inches  shorter,  and  two-thirds  his  weight  would 
have  been  called  tall.  "  Big"  was  the  favorite  adjective 
used  in  describing  Peter,  and  big  he  was.  Had  he  gone 
through  college  ten  years  later,  he  might  have  won  un- 
stinted fame  and  admiration  as  the  full-back  on  the  team, 
or  stroke  on  the  crew.  In  his  time,  athletics  were  but 
just  obtaining,  and  were  not  yet  approved  of  either  by 
faculties  or  families.  Shakespeare  speaks  of  a  tide  in  the 
affairs  of  men.  Had  Peter  been  born  ten  years  later  the 
probabilities  are  that  his  name  would  have  been  in  all  the 
papers,  that  he  would  have  weighed  fifty  pounds  less, 
have  been  cheered  by  thousands,  have  been  the  idol  of 
his  class,  have  been  a  hero,  have  married  the  first  girl 
he  loved  (for  heroes,  curiously,  either  marry  or  die,  but 

never  remain  bachelors)  and  would  have but  as  this  is 

a  tale  of  fact,  we  must  not  give  rein  to  imagination.  To 
come  back  to  realism,  Peter  was  a  hero  to  nobody  but 
his  mother. 

Such  was  the  man,  who,  two  weeks  after  graduation 
from  Harvard,  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  deck  of  Mr. 
Pierce's  yacht,  the  "  Sunrise,"  as  she  drifted  with  the  tide 
in  Long  Island  Sound.  Yet  if  his  expression,  as  he  walked, 
could  for  a  moment  have  been  revealed  to  those  seated 
aft,  the  face  that  all  thought  dull  and  uninteresting  would 
have  riveted  their  attention,  and  set  each  one  questioning 
whether  there  might  not  be  something  both  heroic  and 
romantic  underneath.  The  set  determination  of  his  look 
can  best  be  explained  by  telling  what  had  given  his  face 
such  rigid  lines. 


A  CRAB  CHAPTER. 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  CRAB  CHAPTER. 

MR.  PIERCE  and  those  about  him  had  clearly  indicated 
by  the  conversation,  or  rather  monologue,  already  record- 
ed, that  Peter  was  in  a  sense  an  odd  number  in  the  "  Sun- 
rise's "  complement  of  pleasure-seekers.  Whether  or  no 
Mr.  Pierce's  monologue  also  indicated  that  he  was  not  a 
man  who  dealt  in  odd  numbers,  or  showered  hospitality 
on  sons  of  mill-overseers,  the  fact  was  nevertheless  true. 
"For  value  received,"  or  "I  hereby  promise  to  pay," 
were  favorite  formulas  of  Mr.  Pierce,  and  if  not  actually 
written  in  such  invitations  as  he  permitted  his  wife  to 
write  at  his  dictation  to  people  whom  he  decided  should 
be  bidden  to  the  Shrubberies,  a  longer  or  shorter  time 
would  develop  the  words,  as  if  written  in  sympathetic 
ink.  Yet  Peter  had  had  as  pressing  an  invitation  and  as 
warm  a  welcome  at  Mr.  Pierce's  country  place  as  had  any 
of  the  house-party  ingathered  during  the  first  week  of 
/July.  Clearly  something  made  him  of  value  to  the  owner 
of  the  Shrubberies.  That  something  was  his  chum,  Watts- 
D'Alloi. 

Peter  and  Watts  were  such  absolute  contrasts  that  it 
seemed  impossible  that  they  could  have  an  interest  or 
sympathy,  in  common.  Therefore  they  had  become 
chums.  A  chance  in  their  freshman  year  had  brought 
them  together.  Watts,  with  the  refined  and  delicate  sense 
of  humor  abounding  in  collegians,  had  been  concerned 
with  sundry  freshmen  in  an  attempt  to  steal  (or,  in  col- 
legiate terms,  "rag")  the  chapel  Bible,  with  a  view  to 
presenting  it  to  some  equally  subtle  humorists  at  Yale, 
expecting  a  similar  courtesy  in  return  from  that  college. 
Unfortunately  for  the  joke,  the  college  authorities  had 
had  the  bad  taste  to  guard  against  the  annually  attempted 
substitution.  Two  of  the  marauders  were  caught,  while 
Watts  only  escaped  by  leaving  his  coat  in  the  hands  of 
the  watchers.  Even  then  he  would  have  been  captured 
bad  he  not  met  Peter  in  his  flight,  and  borrowed  tne  lat- 


X2  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

tar's  coat,  in  which  he  reached  his  room  without  detection. 
Peter  was  caught  by  the  pursuers,  and  summoned  before 
the  faculty,  but  he  easily  proved  that  the  captured  coat 
was  not  his,  and  that  he  had  but  just  parted  from  one  of  the 
tutors,  making  it  certain  that  he  could  not  have  been  an 
offender.  There  was  some  talk  of  expelling  him  for  aid- 
ing and  abetting  in  the  true  culprit's  escape,  and  for  re- 
fusing to  tell  who  it  was.  Respect  for  his  motives,  how- 
ever, and  his  unimpeachable  record  saved  him  from 
everything  but  an  admonition  from  the  president,  which 
changed  into  a  discussion  of  cotton  printing  before  that 
august  official  had  delivered  half  of  his  intended  rebuke. 
People  might  not  enthuse  over  Peter,  but  no  one  ever 
quarrelled  with  him.  So  the  interview,  after  travelling 
from  cotton  prints  to  spring  radishes,  ended  with  a  warm 
handshake,  and  a  courteous  suggestion  that  he  come  again 
when  there  should  be  no  charges  nor  admonitions  to  go 
through  with.  Watts  told  him  that  he  was  a  "  devilish 
lucky  "  fellow  to  have  been  on  hand  to  help,  for  Peter  had 
proved  his  pluck  to  his  class,  had  made  a  friend  of  the  pres- 
ident and,  as  Watts  considerately  put  it:  "but  for  your 
being  on  the  corner  at  11:10  that  evening,  old  chap,  you'd 
never  have  known  me."  Truly  on  such  small  chances  do 
the  greatest  events  of  our  life  turn.  Perhaps,  could  Peter 
have  looked  into  the  future,  he  would  have  avoided  that 
corner.  Perhaps,  could  he  have  looked  even  further,  he 
would  have  found  that  in  that  chance  lay  the  greatest 
happiness  of  his  life.  Who  can  tell,  when  the  bitter  comes, 
and  we  later  see  how  we  could  have  avoided  it,  what  we 
should  have  encountered  in  its  place  ?  Who  can  tell, 
when  sweet  comes,  how  far  it  is  sweetened  by  the  bitter- 
^Jiess  that  went  before  ?  Dodging  the  future  in  this  world 
//is  a  success  equal  to  that  of  the  old  woman  who  trium- 
ygphantly  announced  that  she  had  borrowed  money  enough 
\|p  pay  all  her  debts. 

As  a  matter  of  course  Watts  was  grateful  for  the  timely 
assistance,  and  was  Hot  slow  either  to  say  er  show  it. 
He  told  his  own  set  of  fellows  that  he  was  "goiag  to 
take  that  Stirling  up  and  make  him  one  of  us,"  and 
Watts  had  a  remarkable  way  of  doing  what  he  chose. 
At  first  Peter  did  not  respond  to  the  overtures  and  insist- 
ance  of  the  handsome,  well-dressed,  free-spending,  New 
York  swell.  He  was  too  censcious  of  the  difference  be- 


A  CRAB  CHAPTER.  13 

tween  himself  and  Watts's  set,  to  wish  or  seek  identifica- 
tion with  them.  But  no  one  who  ever  came  under  Watts's 
influence  could  long  stand  out  against  his  sunny  face  and 
frank  manner,  and  so  Peter  eventually  allowed  himself  to 
be  "  taken  up."  Perhaps  the  resistance  encountered  only 
whetted  Watts's  intention.  He  was  certainly  aided  by 
Peter's  isolation.  Whether  the  cause  was  single  or  mul- 
tiple, Peter  was  soon  in  a  set  from  which  many  a  seem- 
ingly far  more  eligible  fellow  was  debarred. 

Strangely  enough,  it  did  not  change  him  perceptibly. 
He  still  plodded  on  conscientiously  at  his  studies,  de- 
spite laughter  and  attempts  to  drag  him  away  from  them. 
He  still  lived  absolutely  within  the  comfortable  allowance 
that  his  mother  gave  him.  He  still  remained  the  quiet, 
serious  looking  fellow  of  yore.  The  "gang,"  as  they 
styled  themselves,  called  him  "kill-joy,"  "'graveyard/1 
or  "death's  head,"  in  their  evening  festivities,  but  Peter 
only  puffed  at  his  pipe  good-naturedly,  making  no  retort, 
and  if  the  truth  had  really  been  spoken,  not  a  man  would 
have  changed  him  a  particle.  His  silence  and  seriousness 
added  the  dash  of  contrast  needed  to  make  the  evening 
perfect.  All  joked  him.  The  most  popular  verse  in  a 
class-song  Watts  wrote,  was  devoted  to  burlesquing  his. 
soberness,  the  gang  never  tiring  of  singing  at  all  hours 
and  places  : 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  Who's  that  in  the  *  yard  '  a  yelling  in  the  rain  ? 
That's  the  boy  who  never  gave  his  mother  any  pain, 

But  now  his  moral  character  is  sadly  on  the  wane, 
Tis  little  Peter  Stirling,  bilin'  drunk  again. 
Oh,  the  Sunday-school  boy, 
His  mamma's  only  joy, 
Is  shouting  drunk  as  usual,  and  raising  Cain  1 " 

Yet  joke  Peter  as  they  would,  in  every  lark,  be  it  drive, 
sail,  feed,  drink,  or  smoke,  whoever's  else  absence  was 
commented  upon,  his  never  passed  unnoticed. 

In  Sophomore  year,  Watts,  without  quite  knowing  why, 
proposed  that  they  should  share  rooms.  Nor  would  he 
take  Peter's  refusal,  and  eventually  succeeded  in  reversing 
it. 

"I  can't  afford  your  style  of  living,"  Peter  had  said 
quietly,  as  his  principal  objection. 

"  Oh,  I'll  foot  the  bills  for  the  fixings,  so  it  shan't  cost 
you  a  cent  more/'  said  Watts,  and  when  Peter  had  finally 


14  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Deen  won  over  to  give  his  assent,  Watts  had  supposed 
it  was  on  this -uneven  basis.  But  in  the  end,  the  joint 
chambers  were  more  simply  furnished  than  those  of  the 
rest  of  the  gang,  who  promptly  christened  them  "the 
hermitage,"  and  Peter  had  paid  his  half  of  the  expense. 
And  though  he  rarely  had  visitors  of  his  own  asking  at 
the  chambers,  all  cost  of  wine  and  tobacco  was  equally 
borne  by  him. 

The  three  succeeding  years  welded  very  strong  bands 
round  these  two.  It  was  natural  that  they  should  modify 
each  other  strongly,  but  in  truth,  as  in  most  cases,  when 
markedly  different  characteristics  are  brought  in  contact, 
the  only  effect  was  to  accentuate  each  in  his  peculiarities. 
Peter  dug  at  his  books  all  the  harder,  by  reason  of  Watts's 
neglect  of  them.  Watts  became  the  more  free-handed 
with  his  money  because  of  Peter's  prudence.  Watts 
talked  more  because  of  Peter's  silence,  and  Peter  listened 
more  because  of  Watts's  talk.  Watts,  it  is  true,  tried  to 
drag  Peter  into  society,  yet  in  truth,  Peter  was  really  left 
more  alone  than  if  he  had  been  rooming  with  a  less  social 
fellow.  Each  had  in  truth  become  the  complement'of  the 
other,  and  seemed  as  mutually  necessary  as  the  positive 
and  negative  wires  in  electricity.  Peter,  who  had  been 
taking  the  law  lectures  in  addition  to  the  regular  academic 
course,  and  had  spent  his  last  two  summers  reading  law 
in  an  attorney's  office,  in  his  native  town,  taking  the  New 
York  examination  in  the  previous  January,  had  striven  to 
get  Watts  to  do  the  same,  with  the  ultimate  intention  of 
their  hanging  out  a  joint  legal  shingle  in  New  York. 

"I'll  see  the  clients,  and  work  up  the  cases,  Watts,  and 
you'll  make  the  speeches  and  do  the  social  end,"  said 
Peter,  making  a  rather  long  speech  in  the  ardor  of  his 
wishes. 

Watts  laughed.  "I  don't  know,  old  vftian.  I  rather 
fancy  I  shan't  do  anything.  To  do  something  requires 
that  one  shall  make  up  one's  mind  what  to  do,  and  that's 
such  devilish  hard  work.  I'll  wait  till  I've  graduated,  and 
had  a  chin  with  my  governor  about  it.  Perhaps  he'll 
make  up  my  mind  for  me,  and  so  save  my  brain  tissue. 
But  anyway,  you'll  come  to  New  York,  and  start  in,  for 
you  must  be  within  reach  of  me.  Besides,  New  York's 
the  only  place  in  this  country  worth  living  in." 

Such  were  the  relations  between  the  two  at  graduation 


A  CRAB  CHAPTER.  15 

time.  Watts,  who  had  always  prepared  his  lessons  in  a 
tenth  part  of  the  time  it  had  taken  Peter,  buckled  down 
in  the  last  few  weeks,  and  easily  won  an  honorable  men- 
tion. Peter  had  tried  hard  to  win  honors,  but  failed. 

"  You  did  too  much  outside  work,  old  man,"  said  Watts, 
who  would  cheerfully  have  given  his  own  triumph  to  his 
friend.  "  If  you  want  success  in  anything,  you've  got  to 
sacrifice  other  things  and  concentrate  on  the  object.  The 
Mention's  really  not  worth  the  ink  it's  written  with,  in  my 
case,  but  I  knew  it  would  please  mammy  and  pappy,  so  I 
put  on  steam,  and  got  it.  If  I'd  hitched  on  a  lot  of  freight 
cars  loaded  with  stuff  that  wouldn't -have  told  in  Exams, 
I  never  could  have  been  in  on  time." 

Peter  shook  his  head  rather  sadly.  "You  outclass  me 
in  brains,  Watts,  as  much  as  you  do  in  other  things.". 

" Nonsense,"  said  Watts.  "  I  haven't  one  quarter  of 
your  head.  But  my  ancestors — here's  to  the  old  coves — 
have  been  brain-culturing  for  three  hundred  years,  while 
yours  have  been  land-culturing  ;  and  of  course  my  brain 
moves  quicker  and  easier  than  yours.  I  take  to  a  book, 
by  hereditary  instinct,  as  a  duck  to  water,  while  you  are 
like  a  yacht,  which  needs  a  heap  of  building  and  fitting 
before  she  can  do  the  same.  But  you'll  beat  me  in  the 
long  run,  as  easily  as  the  boat  does  the  duck.  And  the 
Honor's  nothing." 

"  Except,  as  you  said,  to  one's  " — Peter  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  divided  in  mind  by  his  wish  to  quote  accurately, 
and  his  dislike  of  anything  disrespectful,  and  then  finished 
"  to  one's  mother." 

"That's  the  last  person  it's  needed  for,  chum,"  replied 
Watts.  "If  there's  one  person  that  doesn't  need  the 
world's  or  faculty's  opinion  to  prove  one's  merit,  it's  one's 
dear,  darling,  doating,  self-deluded  and  undisillusioned 
mamma.  Heigh-ho.  I'll  be  with  mine  two  weeks  from 
now,  after  we've  had  our  visit  at  the  Pierces'.  I'm  jolly 
glad  you  are  going,  old  man.  It  will  be  a  sort  of  taper- 
ing-off  time  for  the  summer's  separation.  I  don't  see  why 
you  insist  on  starting  in  at  once  in  New  York?  No  one 
does  any  law  business  in  the  summertime.  Why,  I  even 
think  the  courts  are  closed.  Come,  you'd  better  go  on 
to  Grey-Court  with  me,  and  try  it,  at  least.  My  mammy 
will  kill  the  fatted  calf  for  you  in  great  style. " 

"  We've  settled  that  once,"  said  Peter,  who  was  evi- 


1 6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

dently   speaking  journalistically,    for  he  had  done  the 

settling. 

Watts  said  something  in  a  half-articulate  way,  which 
certainly  would  have  fired  the  blood  of  every  dime  museum- 
keeper  In  the  country,  had  they  been  there  to  hear  the 
conversation,  for,  as  well  as  could  be  gathered  from  the 
mumbling,  it  related  to  a  "pig-headed  donkey"  known 
of  to  the  speaker.  "I  suppose  you'll  be  backing  out  of 
the  Pierce  affair  yet,"  he  added,  discontentedly* 

"No,  "said  Peter. 

"An  invitation  to  Grey-Court  is  worth  two  of  the  Shrub- 
beries. My  mother  knows  onlv  the  right  kind  of  people, 
while  Mr.  Pierce " 

"Is  to  be  our  host,"  interrupted  Peter,  but  with  no 
shade  of  correction  in  his  voice. 

"Yes,"  laughed  Watts,  "and  he  is  a  host.  He'll  not 
let  any  one  else  get  a  word  in  edgewise.  You  are  just  the 
kind  of  talker  he'll  like.  Mark  my  word,  he'll  be  telling 
every  one,  before  you've  been  two  hours  in  the  house, 
that  you  are  a  remarkably  brilliant  conversationalist. " 

"What  will  he  say  of  you?  "  said  Peter,  in  a  sentence 
which  he  broke  up  into  reasonable  lengths  by  a  couple  of 
pulls  at  his  pipe  in  the  middle  of  it. 

"Mr.  Pierce,  chum,"  replied  Watts,  with  a  look  in  his 
eyes  which  Peter  had  learned  to  associate  with  mischief 
on  Watts's  part,  "has  too  great  an  affection  for  yours 
truly  to  object  to  anything  I  do.  Do  you  suppose,  if  I 
hadn't  been  sure  of  my  footing  at  the  Shrubberies,  that  I 
should  have  dared  to  ask  an  invitation  for  " — then  Watts 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  seeing  a  half-surprised,  half- 
anxious  look  come  into  Peter's  face,  "for  myself?"  he 
continued. 

"Tell  truth  and  shame  the  devil,"  said  Peter. 

Watts  laughed.  "Confound  you  !  That's  what  comes 
of  letting  even  such  a  stupid  old  beggar  as  you  learn  to 
read  one's  thoughts.  It's  mighty  ungrateful  of  you  to  use 
them  against  me.  Yes.  I  did  ask  to  have  you  included 
in  the  party.  But  you  needn't  put  your  back  up,  Mr.  Un- 
bendable,  and  think  you  were  forced  on  them.  Mr.  Pierce 
gave  me  carle  blanche,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  you,  it  would 
have  been  some  other  donkey." 

"  But  Mrs.  Pierce  ?  "  queried  Peter. 

"Oh,"  explained  Watts,  "of  course  Mrs.  Pierce  wrote 


BEGINNINGS.  iy 

the  letter.  I  couldn't  do  it  in  my  name,  and  so  Mr. 
Pierce  told  her  to  do  it.  They're  very  fond  of  me,  old 
man,  because  my  governor  is  the  largest  stockholder,  and 
a  director  in  Mr.  P/s  bank,  and  I  was  told  I  could  bring 
down  some  fellows  next  week  for  a  few  days'  jollity.  I 
didn't  care  to  do  that,  but  of  course  I  wouldn't  have 
omitted  you  for  any  amount  of  ducats. " 

Which  explanation  solves  the  mystery  of  Peter's  presence 
at  the  Shrubberies.  To  understand  his  face  we  must 
trace  the  period  between  his  arrival  and  the  moment  .this 
story  begins. 


CHAPTER   IV.1 
BEGINNINGS. 

How  far  Watts  was  confining  himself  to  facts  in  the 
foregoing  dialogue  is  of  no  concern,  for  the  only  point  of 
value  was  that  Peter  was  invited,  without  regard  to  whether 
Watts  first  asked  Mr.  Pierce,  or  Mr.  Pierce  first  asked  Watts. 
A  letter  which  the  latter  wrote  to  Miss  Pierce,  as  soon  as 
it  was  settled  that  Peter  should  go,  is  of  more  importance, 
and  deserves  quotation  in  full  : 

JUNE  7TH. 
MY  DEAR  HELEN — 

Between  your  Pater  and  my  Peter,  it  has  taken  an  amount  of  diplo- 
macy to  achieve  the  scheme  we  planned  last  summer,  which  would  be 
creditable  to  Palmerston  at  his  palmiest  and  have  made  Bismarck  even 
more  marked  than  he  is.  But  the  deed,  the  mighty  deed  is  done,  and 
June  twenty-ninth  will  see  chum  and  me  at  the  Shrubberies  "  if  it  kills 
every  cow  in  the  barn,"  which  is  merely  another  way  of  saying  that  in 
the  bright  lexicon  of  youth,  there's  no  such  word  as  fail. 

Now  a  word  as  to  the  fellow  you  are  so  anxious  to  meet.  I  have  talked 
to  you  so  much  about  him,  that  you  will  probably  laugh  at  my  attempt- 
ing to  tell  you  anything  new.  I'm  not  going  to  try,  and  you  are  to  con- 
sider all  I  say  as  merely  a  sort  of  underlining  to  what  you  already  know- 
Please  remember  that  he  will  never  take  a  prize  for  his  beauty — nor 
even  for  his  grace.  He  has  a  pleasing  way  with  girls,  not  only  of 
not  talking  himself,  but  of  making  it  nearly  impossible  for  them  to  talk. 
For  instance,  if  a  girl  asks  me  if  I  play  croquet,  which  by  the  way,  is 
becoming  very  passt  (three  last  lines  verge  on  poetry)  being  replaced  by 
a  new  game  called  tennis,  I  probably  say,  "  No.  Do  you  ?  "  In  this 
way  I  make  croquet  good  for  a  ten  minutes'  chat,  which  in  the  end  leads 
up  to  some  other  subject.  Peter,  however,  doesn't.  He  says  "  No,"  and 
so  the  girl  can't  go  on  with  croquet,  but  must  begin  a  new  subject.  It 
is  safest  to  take  the  subject-headings  from  an  encyclopaedia,  and  intro- 


l8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

duce  them  in  alphabetical  order.  Allow  about  ninety  to  the  hour,  unless 
you  are  brave  enough  to  bear  an  occasional  silence.  If  you  are,  you  can 
reduce  this  number  considerably,  and  chum  doesn't  mind  a  pause  in  the 
least,  if  the  girl  will  only  look  contented.  If  she  looks  worried,  however, 
Peter  gets  worried,  too.  Just  put  the  old  chap  between  you  and  your 
mamma  at  meals,  and  pull  him  over  any  rough  spots  that  come 
along.  You,  I  know,  will  be  able  to  make  it  easy  for  him.  Neglect  me 
to  any  extent.  I  shan't  be  jealous,  and  shall  use  that  apparent  neglect 
as  an  excuse  for  staying  on  for  a  week  after  he  goes,  so  as  to  have  my 
innings.  I  want  the  dear  old  blunderbuss  to  see  how  nice  a  really  nice 
girl  can  be,  so  do  your  prettiest  to  him,  for  the  sake  of 

WATTS  CLARKSON  D'ALLOI. 

When  Watts  and  Peter  saved  the  ' '  cows  in  the  barn  " 
by  stepping  off  the  train  on  June  29th,  the  effect  of  this 
letter  was  manifest.  Watts  was  promptly  bestowed  on 
the  front  seat  of  the  trap  with  Mr.  Pierce,  while  Peter  was 
quickly  sitting  beside  a  girl  on  the  back  seat.  Of  course 
an  introduction  had  been  made,  but  Peter  had  acquired 
a  habit  of  not  looking  at  girls,  and  as  a  consequence  had 
yet  to  discover  how  far  Miss  Pierce  came  up  to  the  pleas- 
ant word-sketch  Watts  had  drawn  of  her.  Indeed,  Peter 
had  looked  longingly  at  the  seat  beside  Mr.  Pierce,  and 
had  attempted,  in  a  very  obvious  manner,  though  one 
which  seemed  to  him  the  essence  of  tact  and  most  un- 
apparent,  to  have  it  assigned  to  him.  But  two  people,  far 
his  superior  in  natural  finesse  and  experience,  had  decided 
beforehand  that  he  was  to  sit  with  Helen,  and  he  could 
not  resist  their  skilful  manoeuvres.  So  he  climbed  into 
place,  hoping  that  she  wouldn't  talk,  or  if  that  was  too 
much  to  expect,  that  at  least  Watts  would  half  turn  and 
help  him  through. 

Neither  of  these  fitted,  however,  with  Miss  Pierce's  plans. 
She  gave  Peter  a  moment  to  fit  comfortably  into  his  seat, 
knowing  that  if  she  forced  the  running  before  he  had  done 
that,  he  would  probably  sit  awry  for  the  whole  drive. 
Then  :  "I  can't  tell  you  how  pleased  we  all  are  over 
Watts's  success.  We  knew,  of  course,  he  could  do  it  if 
he  cared  to,  but  he  seemed  to  think  the  attempt  hardly 
worth  the  making,  and  so  we  did  not  know  if  he  would 
try." 

Peter  breathed  more  easily.  She  had  not  asked  a  ques- 
tion, and  the  intonation  of  the  last  sentence  was  such  as 
left  him  to  infer  that  it  was  not  his  turn  to  say  something  ; 
which,  Peter  had  noticed,  was  the  way  in  which  girls 
generally  ended  their  remarks. 


BEGINNINGS.  19 

*f  Oh,  look  at  that  absurd  looking  cow, "  was  her  next 
remark,  made  before  Peter  had  begun  to  worry  over  the 
pause. 

Peter  looked  at  the  cow  and  laughed.  He  would  like 
to  have  laughed  longer,  for  that  would  have  used  up 
time,  but  the  moment  he  thought  the  laugh  could  be 
employed  in  place  of  conversation,  the  laugh  failed. 
However,  to  be  told  to  look  at  a  cow  required  no  re- 
joinder, so  there  was  as  yet  no  cause  for  anxiety. 

"  We  are  very  proud  of  our  roads  about  here,"  said 
Miss  Pierce.  "  When  we  first  bought  they  were  very 
bad,  but  papa  took  the  matter  in  hand  and  got  them 
to  build  with  a  rock  foundation,  as  they  do  in  Europe." 

Three  subjects  had  been  touched  upon,  and  no  answer 
or  remark  yet  forced  upon  him.  Peter  thought  of  rouge 
et  noir,  and  wondered  what  the  odds  were  that  he  would 
be  forced  to  say  something  by  Miss  Pierce's  next  speech. 

"I  like  the  New  England  roadside/'  continued  Miss 
Pierce,  with  an  apparent  relativeness  to  the  last  subject 
that  delighted  Peter,  who  was  used  by  this  time  to  much 
disconnection  of  conversation,  and  found  not  a  little 
difficulty  in  shifting  quickly  from  one  topic  to  another. 
"  There  is  a  tangled  finish  about  it  that  is  very  pleasant. 
And  in  August,  when  the  golden-rod  comes,  I  think  it  is 
glorious.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  all  the  hot  sunbeams  of 
the  summer  had  been  gathered  up  in — excuse  the  expres- 
sion— it's  a  word  of  Watts's — into  'gobs  '  of  sunshine,  and 
scattered  along  the  roads  and  fields.'7 

Peter  wondered  if  the  request  to  be  excused  called  for 
a  response,  but  concluded  that  it  didn't. 

"  Papa  told  me  the  other  day,"  continued  Miss  Pierce, 
"that  there  were  nineteen  distinct  varieties  of  golden-rod. 
I  had  never  noticed  that  there  were  any  differences/' 

Peter  began  to  feel  easy  and  comfortable.  He  made 
a  mental  note  that  Miss  Pierce  had  a  very  sweet  voice. 
It  had  never  occurred  to  Peter  before  to  notice  if  a  girl 
had  a  pleasant  voice.  Now  he  distinctly  remembered 
that  several  to  whom  he  had  talked — or  rather  who  had 
talked  to  him — had  not  possessed  that  attraction. 

"  Last  year,"  said  Miss  Pierce,  "  when  Watts  was  here, 
we  had  a  golden-rod  party.  We  had  the  whole  house 
decked  with  it,  and  yellow  lamps  on  the  lawn." 

"  He  told  me  about  it,"  said  Peter. 


20  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING.  - 

"  He  really  was  the  soul  of  it,"  said  Miss  Pierce.  "He 
wove  himself  a  belt  and  chaplet  of  it  and  wore  it  all 
through  the  evening.  He  was  so  good-looking  !  " 

Peter,  quite  unconscious  that  he  had  said  anything-, 
actually  continued  :  "  He  was  voted  the  handsomest 
man  of  the  class. " 

"  Was  he  really  ?     How  nice  !  "  said  Miss  Pierce. 

"Yes,"  said  Peter.  "And  it  was  true."  Peter  failed 
to  notice  that  a  question  had  been  asked,  or  that 
he  had  answered  it.  He  began  to  think  that  he  would 
like  to  look  at  Miss  Pierce  for  a  moment.  Miss  Pierce, 
during  this  interval,  remarked  to  herself  :  "  Yes.  That 
was  the  right  way,  Helen,  my  dear." 
*  "We  had  quite  a  houseful  for  our  party,"  Miss  Pierce 
remarked,  after  this  self-approval.  "And  that  reminds 
me  that  I  must  tell  you  about  whom  you  meet  to-day." 
Then  the  next  ten  minutes  were  consumed  in  naming  and 
describing  the  two  fashionable  New  York  girls  and  their 
brother/  who  made  the  party  then  assembled. 

During  this  time  Peter's  eyes  strayed  from  Watts's  shapely 
back,  and  took  a  furtive  glance  at  Miss  Pierce.  He  found 
that  she  was  looking  at  him  as  she  talked,  but  for  some 
reason  it  did  not  alarm  him,  as  such  observation  usually 
did.  Before  the  guests  were  properly  catalogued,  Peter 
was  looking  into  her  eyes  as  she  rambled  on,  and  for- 
got that  he  was  doing  so. 

The  face  that  he  saw  was  not  one  of  any  great  beauty, 
but  it  was  sweet,  and  had  a  most  attractive  way  of  show- 
ing every  change  of  mood  or  thought.  It  responded 
quickly  too,  to  outside  influence.  Many  a  girl  of  more 
real  beauty  was  less  popular.  People  liked  to  talk  to 
Miss  Pierce,  and  many  could  not  escape  from  saying 
more  than  they  wished,  impelled  thereto  by  her  ready 
sympathy.  Then  her  eyes  were  really  beautiful,  and 
she  had  the  trimmest,  dearest  little  figure  in  the  world; 
"  squeezable "  was  the  word  Watts  used  to  describe  it, 
and  most  men  thought  the  same.  Finally,  she  had  a 
pleasant  way  of  looking  into  people's  eyes  as  she  talked 
to  them,  and  for  some  reason  people  felt  very  well  satisfied 
when  she  did. 

It  had  this  effect  upon  Peter.  As  he  looked  down  into 
the  large  gray  eyes,  really  slate-color  in  their  natural  dark- 
ness, made  the  darker  by  the  shadows  of  the  long  lashes, 


MINES  AND  COUNTER-MINES.  *  I 

he  entirely  forgot  place  and  circumstances ;  ceased  to 
think  whose  turn  it  was  to  speak  ;  even  forgot  to  think 
whether  he  was  enjoying  the  moment.  In  short  he  for- 
got himself  and,  what  was  equally  important,  forgot 
that  he  was  talking  to  a  girl.  He  felt  and  behaved  as  he 
did  with  men.  "  Moly  hoses  1  "  said  Watts  to  himself  on 
the  front  seat,  "  the  old  fellow's  getting  loquacious.  Gar- 
rulity must  be  contagious,  and  he's  caught  it  from  Mr« 
Pierce."  Which,  being  reduced  to  actual  facts,  means  that 
Peter  had  spoken  eight  times,  and  laughed  twice,  in  the 
half  hour  that  was  passed  between  the  station  and  the 
Shrubberies'  gate. 


CHAPTER  V. 
MINES    AND   COUNTER-MINES. 

THE  sight  of  the  party  on  the  veranda  of  the  Shrubberies 
brought  a  return  of  self-consciousness  to  Peter,  and  he 
braced  himself,  as  the  trap  slowed  up,  for  the  agony  of 
formal  greetings.  If  Miss  Pierce  had  been  a  less  sweet, 
sympathetic  girl,  she  could  hardly  have  kept  from  smiling 
at  the  way  Peter's  face  and  figure  stiffened,  as  the  group 
came  in  sight.  But  Miss  Pierce  had  decided,  before 
she  met  Peter,  that  she  should  like  him,  and,  moreover, 
that  he  was  a  man  who  needed  help.  Let  any  woman 
reach  these  conclusions  about  a  man,  and  for  some  reason 
quite  beyond  logic  or  philosophy,  he  ceases  to  be  ridicu- 
lous. So  instead  of  smiling,  she  bridged  over  the  awful 
greetings  with  feminine  engineering  skill  quite  equal  to 
some  great  strategic  movement  in  war.  Peter  was  made 
to  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Pierce,  but  was  called  off  to 
help  Miss  Pierce  out  of  the  carnage,  before  speech  was 
necessary.  Then  a  bundle  was  missing  in  the  bottom  of 
the  carriage,  and  Mr.  Pawling,  the  New  York  swell,  was 
summoned  to  help  Peter  find  it,  trie  incident  being  seized 
upon  to  name  the  two  to  each  other.  Finally,  he  was 
introduced  to  the  two  girls,  but,  almost  instantly,  Watts 
and  Peter  were  sent  to  their  rooms  ;  and  Miss  Pierce, 
nodding  her  head  in  a  way  which  denoted  satisfaction, 
^remarked  as  she  went  to  her  own  room,  "Really,  Helen* 


22  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

I  don't  think  it  will  be  so  very  hard,  after  all.     He's  very 
tractable.  " 

As  Peter  came  downstairs,  before  dinner,  he  speculated 
on  whether  he  should  be '  able  to  talk  to  Miss  Pierce. 
He  rather  doubted  from  past  experience,  if  such  a  result 
was  attainable,  seeing  that  there  were  two  other  men,  who 
would  of  course  endeavor  to  do  the  same.  But  strangely 
enough  the  two  men  were  already  seated  by  the  New 
York  girls,  and  a  vacant  chair  was  next  that  holding  Miss 
Pierce.  What  was  more,  he  was  at  once  summoned  to  fill 
it,  and  in  five  minutes  was  again  entirely  unconscious  of 
everything  but  the  slate-colored  eyes,  looking  so  pleas- 
antly into  his.  Then  he  took  Miss  Pierce  in  to  dinner,  and 
sat  between  her  and  her  mother  again  becoming  ab- 
sorbed in  the  slate-colored  eyes,  which  seemed  quite 
willing  to  be  absorbed.  After  dinner,  too,  when  the 
women  had  succeeded  the  weed,  Peter  in  someway  found 
it  very  easy  to  settle  himself  near  Miss  Pierce.  Later  that 
night  Peter  sat  in  his  room,  or  rather,  with  half  his  body 
out  of  the  window,  puffing  his  pipe,  and  thinking  how 
well  he  had  gone  through  the  day.  He  had  not  made  a 
single  slip.  Nothing  to  groan  over.  "  I'm  getting  more 
experienced,"  he  thought,  with  the  vanity  noticeable  in 
even  the  most  diffident  of  collegians,  never  dreaming  that 
everything  that  he  had  said  or  done  in  the  last  few  hours, 
had  been  made  easy  for  him  by  a  woman's  tact. 

The  following  week  was  practically  a  continuation  of 
this  first  day.  In  truth  Peter  was  out  of  his  element  with 
the  fashionables  ;  Mr.  Pierce  did  not  choose  to  waste  his 
power  on  him  ;  and  Mrs.  Pierce,  like  the  yielding,  de- 
voted wife  she  was,  took  her  coloring  from  her  husband. 
Watts  had  intended  to  look  after  him,  but  Watts  played 
well  on  the  piano,  and  on  the  billiard  table  ;  he  rowed  well 
and  rode  well  ;  he  sang,  he  danced,  he  swam,  he  talked, 
he  played  all  games,  he  read  aloud  capitally,  and,  what 
was  more,  was  ready  at  any  or  all  times  for  any  or  all 
things.  No  man  who  can  do  half  these  had  better  intend 
seriously  to  do  some  duty  in  a  house-party  in  July.  For, 
however  good  his  intentions,  he  will  merely  add  to  the 
pavement  of  a  warmer  place  than  even  a  July  temperature 
makes  Long  Island  Sound.  Instinctively,  Peter  turned 
to  Miss  Pierce  at  every  opportunity.  He  should  have 
asked  himself  if  the  girl  was  really  enjoying  his  company 


MINES  AND  COUNTER-MINES.  23 

more  than  she  did  that  of  the  other  young  people.  Had  he 
been  to  the  manner  born  he  would  have  known  better  than 
to  force  himself  on  a  hostess,  or  to  make  his  monopoly  of  a 
young  girl  so  marked.  But  he  was  entirely  oblivious  of 
whether  he  was  doing  as  he  ought,  conscious  only  that,  for 
causes  which  he  made  no  attempt  to  analyze,  he  was  very 
happy  when  with  her.  For  reasons  best  known  to  Miss 
Pierce,  she  allowed  herself  to  be  monopolized.  She  was 
even  almost  as  devoted  to  Peter  as  he  was  to  her,  and  no 
comparison  could  be  stronger.  It  is  to  be  questioned  if  she 
enjoyed  it  very  much,  for  Peter  was  not  talkative,  and  the 
little  he  did  say  was  neither  brilliant  nor  witty.  With  the 
jollity  and  "  high  jinks"  (to  use  a  word  of  Watts's)  going 
on  about  her,  it  is  hardly  possible  that  Peters  society 
shone  by  contrast.  Yet  in  drawing-room  or  carriage,  on 
the  veranda,  lawn,  or  yacht's  deck,  she  was  ever  ready  to 
give  him  as  much  of  her  attention  and  help  as  he  seemed 
to  need,  and  he  needed  a  good  deal.  Watts  jokingly  said 
that  "  the  moment  Peter  comes  in  sight,  Helen  puts  out  a 
sign  '  vacant,  to  let/  "  and  this  was  only  one  of  many  jokes 
the  house-party  made  over  the  dual  devotion. 

It  was  an  experience  full  of  danger  to  Peter.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  was  seeing  the  really  charming 
phases  which  a  girl  has  at  command.  Attractive  as  these 
are  to  all  men,  they  were  trebly  so  to  Peter,  who  had 
nothing  to  compare  with  them  but  the  indifferent  attitudes 
hitherto  shown  him  by  the  maidens  of  his  native  town, 
and  by  the  few  Boston  women  who  had  been  compelled 
to  "  endure  "  his  society.  If  he  had  had  more  experience 
he  would  have  merely  thought  Miss  Pierce  a  girl  with  nice 
eyes,  figure  and  manner.  But  as  a  single  glass  of  wine 
is  dangerous  to  the  teetotaller,  so  this  episode  had  an  over- 
balancing influence  on  Peter,  entirely  out  of  proportion  to 
its  true  value.  Before  the  week  was  over  he  was  seriously 
in  love,  and  though  his  natural  impassiveness  and  his 
entire  lack  of  knowledge  how  to  convey  his  feelings  to 
Miss  Pierce,  prevented  her  from  a  suspicion  of  the  fact, 
the  more  experienced  father  and  mother  were  not  so  blind. 

"Really,  Charles,"  said  Mrs.  Pierce,  in  the  privacy  of 
their  own  room,  "  I  think  it  ought  to  be  stopped." 

"Exactly,  my  dear,"  replied  her  other  half,  with  an  ap- 
parent yielding  to  her  views  that  amazed  and  rather 
frightened  Mrs.  Pierce,  till  he  continued:  "Beyond 


24  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STfRLTNG. 

question  it  should  be  stopped,  since  you  say  so.  //Is 
neuter,  and  as  neutral  things  are  highly  objectionable, 
stop  it  by  all  means. " 

"I  mean  Mr.  Stirling "  began  Mrs.  Pierce. 

"Yes  ?  "  interrupted  Mr.  Pierce,  in  an  encouraging,  in- 
quiring tone.  "  Peter  is  certainly  neuter.  I  think  one 
might  say  negative,  without  gross  exaggeration.  Still,  I 
should  hardly  stop  him.  He  finds  enough  difficulty  in 
getting  out  an  occasional  remark  without  putting  a  stop- 
per in  him.  Perhaps,  though,  I  mistake  your  meaning, 
and  you  want  Peter  merely  to  stop  here  a  little  longer. " 

"I  mean,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Pierce,  with  something 
like  a  tear  in  her  voice,  for  she  was  sadly  wanting  in  a 
sense  of  humor,  and  her  husband's  jokes  always  half 
frightened  her,  and  invariably  made  her  feel  inferior  to 
him,  "I  mean  his  spending  so  much  time  with  Helen. 
I'm  afraid  he'll  fall  in  love  with  her." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  "you  really  should  be  a 
professional  mind-reader.  Your  suggestion  comes  as  an 
awful  revelation  to  me.  Just  supposing  he  should — aye 
— just  supposing  he  has,  fallen  in  love  with  Helen  !  " 

"I  really  think  he  has/'  said  Mrs.  Pierce,  "though  he 
is  so  different  from  most  men,  that  I  am  not  snre." 

"Then  by  all  means  we  must  stop  him.  By  the  way, 
how  does  one  stop  a  man's  falling  in  love  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Pierce. 

' '  Charles  !  "  said  Mrs.  Pierce. 

This  remark  of  Mrs.  Pierce's  generally  meant  a  resort 
to  a  handkerchief,  <and  Mr.  Pierce  did  not  care  for  any 
increase  of  atmospheric  humidity  just  then.  He  therefore 
concluded  that  since  his  wit  was  taken  seriously,  he  would 
try  a  bit  of  seriousness,  as  an  antidote. 

"I  don't  think  there  is  any  occasion  to  interfere. 
Whatever  Peter  does  can  make  no  difference,  for  it  is  per- 
fectly evident  that  Helen  is  nice  to  him  as  a  sort  of 
duty,  and,  I  rather  suspect,  to  please  Watts.  So  anything 
she  may  do  will  be  a  favor  to  him,  while  the  fact  that 
she  is  attractive  to  Peter  will  not  lessen  her  value  to — 
others." 

"Then  you  don't  think ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pierce,  and 

paused  there. 

"Don't  insult  my  intelligence,"  laughed  Mr.  Pierce. 
"I  do  think.  I  think  things  can't  be  going  better,.  I 


MTNES  AND  COUNTER-MINES.  fj 

was  a  little  afraid  of  Mr.  Pawling,  and  should  have  pre- 
ferred to  have  him  and  his  sisters  later,  but  since  it  is 
policy  to  invite  them  and  they  could  not  come  at  any 
other  time,  it  was  a  godsend  to  have  sensible,  dull  old 
Peter  to  keep  her  busy.  If  he  had  been  in  the  least  dan- 
gerous, I  should  not  have  interfered,  but  I  should  have 
made  him  very  ridiculous.  That's  the  way  for  parents  to 
treat  an  ineligible  man.  Next  week,  when  all  are  gone 
but  Watts,  he  will  have  his  time,  and  shine  the  more  by 
contrast  with  what  she  has  had  this  week." 

"Then  you  think  Helen  and  Watts  care  for  each  other  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Pierce,  flushing  with  pleasure,  to  find  her  own 
opinion  of  such  a  delightful  possibility  supported  by  her 
husband's. 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  "that  the  less  we  parents 
concern  ourselves  with  love  the  better.  If  I  have  made 
opportunities  for  Helen  and  Watts  to  see  something  of 
each  other,  I  have  only  done  what  was  to  their  mutual 
interests.  Any  courtesy  I  have  shown  him  is  well  enough 
accounted  for  on  the  ground  of  his  father's  interest  in  jny 
institution,  without  the  assumption  of  any  matrimonial 
intentions.  However,  I  am  not  opposed  to  a  marriage. 
Watts  is  the  son  of  a  very  rich  man  of  the  best  social 
position  in  New  York,  besides  being  a  nice  fellow  in  him- 
self. Helen  will  make  any  man  a  good  wife,  and  who- 
ever wins  her  will  not  be  the  poorer.  If  the  two  can  fix 
it  between  themselves,  I  shall  cry  nunc  dimittis,  but  fur- 
ther than  this,  the  deponent  saith  and  doeth  not." 

"I  am  sure  they  love  each  other,",,said  Mrs.  Pierce. 

"Well, "  said  Mr.  Pierce,  "I  think  if  most  parents  would 
decide  whom  it  was  best  for  their  child  to  marry,  and  see 
that  the  young  people  saw  just  enough  of  each  other,  be- 
fore they  saw  too  much  of  the  world,  they  could  accom- 
plish their  purpose,  provided  they  otherwise  kept  their 
finger  out  of  the  pot  of  love.  There  is  a  certain  period  in 
a  man's  life  when  he  must  love  something  feminine,  eveij^j 
if  she's  as  old  as  his  grandmother.  There  is  a  certain  ^ 
period  in  a  girl's  life  when  it  is  well-nigh  impossible  for  her 
to  say  'no 'to  a  lover.  He  really  only  loves  the  sex, 
and  she  really  loves  the  love  and  not  the  lover ;  but  it  is 
•just  as  well,  for  the  delusion  lasts  quite  as  long  as  the 
more  personal  love  that  comes  later.  And,  being  young, 
they  need  less  breaking  for  double  harness." 


26  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Mrs.  Pierce  winced.  Most  women  do  wince  when  a 
man  really  verges  on  his  true  conclusions  concerning 
love  in  the  abstract,  however  satisfactory  his  love  in  the 
concrete  may  be  to  them.  "I  am  sure  they  love  each 
other,"  she  affirmed. 

"Yes,  I  think  they  do,"  replied  Mr.  Pierce.  "But  five 
years  in  the  world  before  meeting  would  have  possibly 
brought  quite  a  different  conclusion.  And  now,  my  dear, 
if  we  are  not  going  to  have  the  young  people  eloping  in 
the  yacht  by  themselves,  we  had  better  leave  both  the 
subject  and  the  room,  for  we  have  kept  them  fifteen  min- 
utes as  it  is." 


CHAPTER   VI. 
A  MONOLOGUE  AND  A  DIALOGUE. 

IT  was  at  the  end  of  this  day's  yachting  that  Peter  was 
having  his  "unsocial  walk."  Early  on  the  morrow  he 
would  be  taking  the  train  for  his  native  town,  and  the 
thought  of  this,  in  connection  with  other  thoughts,  drew 
stern  lines  on  his  face.  His  conclusions  were  something 
to  this  effect  : 

"  I  suspected  before  coming  that  Watts  and  Miss  Pierce 
loved  each  other.  I  was  evidently  wrong,  for  if  they  did 
they  could  not  endure  seeing  so  little  of  each  other.  How 
could  he  know  her  and  not  love  her  ?  But  it's  very  fortu- 
nate for  me,  for  I  should  stand  no  chance  against  him, 
even  supposing  I  should  try  to  win  the  girl  he  loved. 
She  can't  care  for  me  !  As  Watts  says,  '  I'm  an  old  stupid 
naturally,  and  doubly  so  with  girls/  Still,  I  can't  go  to- 
morrow without  telling  her.  I  shan't  see  her  again  till 
next  winter.  I  can't  wait  till  then.  Some  one  else — I 
can't  wait." 

Then  he  strode  up  and  down  half  a  dozen  times  re- 
peating the  last  three  words  over  and  over  again.  His 
thoughts  took  a  new  turn. 

"  It's  simply  folly,  and  you  have  no  right  to  give  in  to 
it.  You  have  your  own  way  to  make.  You  have  no 
right  to  ask  mother  for  more  than  the  fifteen  hundred  she 
says  you  are  to  have  as  an  allowance,  for  you  know  that 


A  MONOLOGUE  AND  A  DIALOGUE.  27 

even  if  she  gave  you  more,  it  would  be  only  by  scrimping 
herself.  What  is  fifteen  hundred  a  year  to  such  a  girl? 
Why,  her  father  would  think  I  was  joking !  " 

Then  Peter  looked  out  on  the  leaden  waters  and  wished 
it  was  not  cowardly  to  end  the  conflict  by  letting  them 
close  over  him.  The  dark  color  made  him  think,  how- 
ever, of  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes,  so  instead  of  jumping 
in,  he  repeated  "I  can't  wait"  a  few  times,  and  walked 
with  redoubled  energy.  Having  stimulated  himself  there- 
by, he  went  on  thinking. 

"She  has  been  so  kind  to  me  that — no — she  can't  care 
for  me.  But  if  she — if  by  chance — if — supposing  she  does! 
Why,  the  money  is  nothing.  We  can  wait." 

Peter  repeated  this  last  remark  several  times,  clearly 
showing  that  he  made  a  great  distinction  between  "I  can 
wait"  and  "We  can  wait."  Probably  the  same  nice 
distinction  has  been  made  before,  and  lovers  have  good 
authority  for  the  distinction,  for  many  an  editor's  public 
"  We  think  "  is  the  exact  opposite  of  his  private  "  I  think." 
Then  Peter  continued : 

"Of  course  I  shall  have  difficulty  with  Mr.  Pierce. 
He's  a  worldly  man.  That's  nothing,  though,  if  she  cares 
for  me.  If  she  cares  for  me?  " 

Peter  repeated  this  last  sentence  a  number  of  times  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  prospect  it  conjured  up.  He  saw 
Peter  Stirling  taking  a  fond  farewell  of  a  certain  lady.  He 
saw  him  entering  the  arena  and  struggling  with  the  wild 
beasts,  and  of  course  conquering  them.  He  saw  the  day 
when  his  successes  would  enable  him  to  set  up  his  own 
fireside.  He  saw  that  fireside  made  perfect  by  a  pair  of 
slate-colored  eyes,  which  breakfast  opposite  him,  follow 
him  as  he  starts  for  his  work,  and  greet  him  on  his 
return.  A  pair  of  eyes  to  love  when  present,  and  think  of 
when  absent.  Heigho  !  How  many  firesides  and  homes 
have  been  built  out  of  just  such  materials  ! 

From  all  this  the  fact  can  be  gathered  that  Peter  was 
really,  despite  his  calm,  sober  nature,  no  more  sensible  in 
love  matters  than  are  other  boys  verging  on  twenty-one. 
He  could  not  see  that  success  in  this  love  would  be  his 
greatest  misfortune.  That  he  could  not  but  be  distracted 
from  his  work.  That  he  would  almost  certainly  marry 
before  he  could  well  afford  it,  and  thus  overweight  him- 
self in  his  battle  for  success.  He  forgot  prudence  and 


28  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

common-sense,  and  that  being  what  a  lover  usually  does, 
he  can  hardly  be  blamed  for  it. 

Bump  1 

Down  came  the  air-castle.  Home,  fireside,  and  the 
slate- colored  eyes  dissolved  into  a  wooden  wharf.  The 
dream  was  over. 

"Bear  a  hand  here  with  these  lunch-baskets,  chum," 
called  Watts.  "Make  yourself  useful  as  well  as  orna- 
mental." 

And  so  Peter's  solitary  tramp  ceased,  and  he  was  help- 
ing- lunch-baskets  and  ladies  to  the  wharf. 

But  the  tramp  had  brought  results  which  were  quickly 
to  manifest  themselves.  As  the  party  paired  off  for  the 
walk  to  the  Shrubberies,  both  Watts  and  Peter  joined 
Miss  Pierce,  which  was  not  at  all  to  Peter's  liking. 

"Go  on  with  the  rest,  Watts/'  said  Peter  quietly. 

Miss  Pierce  and  Watts  both  stopped  short  in  surprise* 

"  Eh  ?"  said  the  latter. 

"You  join  the  rest  of  the  party  on  ahead,"  said  Peter. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Watts,  who  could  hardly 
have  been  more  surprised  if  Peter  had  told  him  to  drown 
himself. 

"  I  want  to  say  something  to  Miss  Pierce,"  explained 
Peter. 

Watts  caught  his  breath.  If  Peter  had  not  requested 
his  absence  and  given  his  reason  for  wishing  it,  in  Miss 
Pierce's  hearing,  Watts  would  have  formed  an  instant 
conclusion  as  to  what  it  meant,  not  far  from  the  truth. 
But  that  a  man  should  deliberately  order  another  away, 
in  the  girl's  hearing,  so  that  he  might  propose  to  her,  was 
too  great  an  absurdity  for  Watts  to  entertain  for  more  than 
a  second.  He  laughed,  and  said,  "  Go  on  yourself,  if  you 
don't  like  the  company." 

"No, "said  Peter.  "I  want  you  to  go  on."  Peter 
spoke  quietly,  but  there  was  an  inflexion  in  his  singularly 
clear  voice,  which  had  more  command  in  it  than  a  much 
louder  tone  in  others.  Watts  had  learned  to  recognize  it, 
and  from  past  experience  knew  that  Peter  was  not  to  be 
moved  when  he  used  it.  But  here  the  case  was  different. 
Hitherto  he  had  been  trying  to  make  Peter  do  something. 
Now  the  boot  was  on  the  other  leg,  and  Watts  saw  therein 
a  chance  for  some  fun.  He  therefore  continued  to  stand 
still,  as  they  had  all  done  since  Peter  had  exploded  his 


A  MONOLOGUE  AND  A  DIALOGUE.  29 

first  speech,  and  began  to  whistle.  Both  men,  with  that 
selfishness  common  to  the  sex,  failed  entirely  to  consider 
whether  Miss  Pierce  was  enjoying  the  incident. 

"I  think/'  remarked  Miss  Pierce,  "that  I  will  leave 
you  two  to  settle  it,  and  run  on  with  the  rest." 

"  Don't,"  spoke  Peter  quickly.  "I  have  something  to 
say  to  you. " 

Watts  stopped  his  whistling.  "What  the  deuce  is  the 
old  boy  up  to  ?  "  he  thought  to  himself.  Miss  Pierce 
hesitated.  She  wanted  to  go,  but  something  in  Peter's 
voice  made  it  very  difficult.  ' '  I  had  no  idea  he  could  speak 
so  decidedly.  He's  not  so  tractable  as  I  thought.  I  think 
Watts  ought  to  do  what  he  asks.  Though  I  don't  see 
why  Mr.  Stirling  wants  to  send  him  away,"  she  said  to 
herself. 

"Watts,"  said  Peter,  "this  is  the  last  chance  I  shall 
really  have  to  thank  Miss  Pierce,  for  I  leave  before  break- 
fast to-morrow." 

There  was  nothing  appealing  in  the  way  it  was  said. 
It  seemed  a  mere  statement  of  a  fact.  Yet  something  in 
the  voice  gave  it  the  character  of  a  command. 

"  'Nough  said,  chum,"  said  Watts,  feeling  a  little  cheap 
at  his  smallness  in  having  tried  to  rob  Peter  of  his  fare- 
well. The  next  moment  he  was  rapidly  overtaking  the 
advance-party. 

By  all  conventions  there  should  have  been  an  embarrass- 
ing pause  after  this  extraordinary  colloquy,  but  there 
was  not.  When  Peter  decided  to  do  a  thing,  he  never 
faltered  in  the  doing.  If  making  love  or  declaring  it  had 
been  a  matter  of  directness  and  plain-speaking,  Peter 
would  have  been  a  successful  lover.  But  few  girls  are 
won  by  lovers  who  carry  business  methods  and  habits 
of  speech  into  their  courtship. 

"Miss  Pierce,"  said  Peter,  "I  could  not  go  without 
thanking  you  for  your  kindness  to  me.  I  shall  never  for- 
get this  week. " 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  enjoyed  it,"  almost  sang  Miss 
Pierce,  in  her  pleasure  at  this  reward  for  her  week  of  self- 
sacrifice. 

"And  I  couldn't  go,"  said  Peter,  his  clear  voice  sud- 
denly husking,  "  without  telling  you  how  I  love  you." 

"  Love  me  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Pierce,  and  she  brought 
the  walk  again  to  a  halt,  in  her  surprise, 


30  THE  HONORABLE  PJZTER  STIRLING. 

"Yes,"  replied  Peter  simply,  but  the  monosyllable 
meant  more  than  the  strongest  protestations,  as  he  said  it 

"Oh,"  almost  cried  his  companion,  "  I  am  so  sorry." 

"  Don't  say  that,"«aid  Peter  ;  "  I  don't  want  it  to  be  a 
sorrow  to  you." 

"But  it's  so  sudden,"  gasped  Miss  Pierce. 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Peter,  "but  I  love  you  and 
can't  help  telling  it.  Why  shouldn't  one  tell  one's  love 
as  soon  as  one  feels  it  ?  It's  the  finest  thing  a  man  can 
tell  a  woman. " 

"Oh,  please  don't,"  begged  Miss  Pierce,  her  eyes  full 
of  tears  in  sympathy  for  him.  "You  make  it  so  hard  for 
me  to  say  that — that  you  mustn't. " 

"  I  really  didn't  think  you  could  care  for  me — as  I  cared 
for  you,"  replied  Peter,  rather  more  to  the  voice  than  t 
the  words  of  the  last  speech.      "  Girls  have  never  liked 
me." 

Miss  Pierce  began  to  sob,  "It's  all  a  mistake.  A 
dreadful  mistake,"  she  cried,  "  and  it  is  my  fault." 

"Don't  say  that,"  said  Peter.  "It's  nothing  but  my 
blundering." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  to  the  Shrubberies,  but  as 
they  came  near  to  the  glare  of  the  lighted  doorway,  Peter 
halted  a  moment. 

"Do  you  think/'  he  asked,  "that  it  could  ever  be  dif- 
ferent ? " 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Pierce. 

"  Because,  unless  there  is — is  some  one  else/'  continued 
Peter,  ' '  I  shall  not " 

"There  is,"  interrupted  Miss  Pierce,  the  determina- 
tion in  Peter's  voice  frightening  her  into  disclosing  her 
secret. 

Peter  said  to  himself,  "It  is  Watts  after  all."  He  was 
tempted  to  say  it  aloud,  and  most  men  in  the  sting  of  the 
moment  would  have  done  so.  But  he  thought  it  would 
not  be  the  speech  of  a  gentleman.  Instead  he  said, 
"Thank  you."  Then  he  braced  himself,  and  added: 
"  Please  don't  let  my  love  cause  you  any  sorrow.  It  has 
been  nothing  but  a  joy  to  me.  Good-night  and  good- 
bye." 

He  did  not  even  offer  to  shake  hands  in  part- 
ing. They  went  into  the  hallway  together,  and  leaving 
the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  already  raiding  the  larder 


FACING  THE  WORLD.  31 

for  an  impromptu  supper,  to  their  own  devices,  they 
passed  upstairs,  Miss  Pierce  to  bathe  her  eyes  and  Peter 
to  pack  his  belongings. 

"  Where  are  Helen  and  Stirling  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pierce 
when  the  time  came  to  serve  out  the  Welsh  rarebit  he  was 
tending. 

" They'll  be  along  presently,"  said  Watts.  "  Helen 
forgot  something,  and  they  went  back  after  it." 

"They  will  be  properly  punished  by  the  leathery  con- 
dition of  the  rarebit,  if  they  don't  hurry.  And  as  we  are 
all  agreed  that  Stirling  is  somewhat  lacking  in  romance, 
he  will  not  get  a  corresponding  pleasure  from  the  longer 
stroll  to  reward  him  for  that.  There,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, that  is  a  rarebit  that  will  melt  in  your  mouth,  and 
make  the  absent  ones  regret  their  foolishness.  As  the 
gourmand  says  in  'Richelieu/  'What's  diplomacy  com- 
pared to  a  delicious  pate'  ? ' " 


CHAPTER  VII. 
FACING  THE  WORLD. 

ARMY  surgeons  recognize  three  types  of  wounded.  One 
type  so  nervous,  that  it  drops  the  moment  it  is  struck, 
whether  the  wound  is  disabling  or  not.  Another  so  nerve- 
less, that  it  fights  on,  unconscious  that  it  has  been  hit.  A 
third,  who,  feeling  the  wound,  goes  on  fighting,  sustained 
by  its  nerve.  It  is  over  the  latter  sort  that  the  surgeons 
shake  their  heads  and  look  anxious. 

Peter  did  his  packing  quietly  and  quickly,  not  pausing 
for  a  moment  in  the  task.  Then  he  went  downstairs, 
and  joined  the  party,  just  finishing  the  supper.  He  re- 
fused, it  is  true,  to  eat  anything,  and  was  quiet,  but  this 
phase  was  so  normal  in  him,  that  it  occasioned  no  remark. 
Asked  where  Miss  Pierce  was,  he  explained  briefly  that  he 
had  left  her  in  the  hall,  in  order  to  do  his  packing  and  had 
not  seen  her  since. 

In  a  few  moments  the  party  broke  up.  Peter  said  a  good- 
bye to  each,  quite  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  yet 
really  saying-  more  and  better  things  than  he  had  said  in 


32  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

his  whole  visit,  and  quite  surprising  them  all  in  the  appar- 
ent ease  with  which  he  went  through  the  duty. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  us  when  you  have  put  your 
shingle  out  in  New  York, "  said  Mr.  Pierce,  not  quite  know- 
ing why,  having  previously  decided  that  they  had  had 
enough  of  Peter.  "We  shall  be  in  the  city  early  in  Sep- 
tember, and  ready  to  see  our  friends." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Peter.  He  turned  and  went  up- 
stairs to  his  room.  He  ought  to  have  spent  the  night 
pacing  his  floor,  but  he  did  not.  He  went  to  bed  instead. 
Whether  Peter  slept,  we  cannot  say.  He  certainly  lay 
very  still,  till  the  first  ray  of  daylight  brightened  the  sky. 
Then  he  rose  and  dressed.  He  went  to  the  stables  and 
explained  to  the  groom  that  he  would  walk  to  the  station, 
•and  merely  asked  that  his  trunk  should  be  there  in  time 
to  be  checked.  Then  he  returned  to  the  house  and  told 
the  cook  that  he  would  breakfast  on  the  way.  Finally 
he  started  for  the  station,  diverging  on  the  way,  so  as  to 
take  a  roundabout  road,  that  gave  him  a  twelve-mile  tramp 
in  the  time  he  had  before  the  train  left. 

Perhaps  the  hardest  thing  Peter  encountered  was 
answering  his  mother's  questions  about  the  visit.  Yet 
he  never  flinched  nor  dodged  from  a  true  reply,  and  if  his 
mother  had  chosen,  she  could  have  had  the  whole  story. 
But  something  in  the  way  Peter  spoke  of  Miss  Pierce  made 
Mrs.  Stirling  careful,  and  whatever  she  surmised  she  kept 
to  herself,  merely  kissing  him  good-night  with  a  tender- 
ness that  was  unusual  not  merely  in  a  New-Englander, 
but  even  in  her.  During  the  rest  of  his  stay,  the  Pierces 
were  quite  as  much  kept  out  of  sight,  as  if  they  had 
never  been  known.  Mrs.  Stirling  was  not  what  we 
should  call  a  "lady,"  yet  few  of  those  who  rank  as 
such,  would  have  been  as  considerate  or  tender  of  Peter's 
trouble,  if  the  power  had  been  given  them  to  lay  it 
bare.  Love,  sympathy,  unselfishness  and  forbearance 
are  not  bad  equivalents  for  breeding  and  etiquette,  and 
have  the  additional  advantage  of  meeting  new  and  un- 
usual conditions  which  sometimes  occur  to  even  tke 
most  conventional. 

One  hope  did  come  to  her.  "Perhaps,  now  that"— 
and  Mrs.  Stirling  left  "  that "  blank  even  in  her  thoughts  ; 
"  now  my  boy,  my  Peter,  will  not  be  so  set  on  going  to 
New  York."  In  this,  however,  she  was  disappointed. 


FACING  THE  WORLD.  33 

$ 

On  the  second  day  of  his  stay,  Peter  spoke  of  his  intention 
to  start  for  New  York  the  following  week. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  do  as  well  here?"  said 
Mrs.  Stirling. 

"Up  to  a  certain  point,  better.  But  New  York  has  a 
big  beyond/'  said  Peter.  "I'll  try  it  there  first,  and  if  I 
don't  make  my  way,  111  come  back  here." 

Few  mothers  hope  for  a  son's  failure,  yet  Mrs.  Stirling 
allowed  herself  a  moment's  happiness  over  this  possibility. 
Then  remembering  that  her  Peter  could  not  possibly  fail, 
she  became  despondent.  "They  say  New  York's  full  of 
temptations,"  she  said. 

"I  suppose  it  is,  mother,"  replied  Peter,  "to  those  who 
want  to  be  tempted." 

"I  know  I  can  trust  you,  Peter,"  said  his  mother, 
proudly,  "but  I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing." 

"What?" 

"That  if  you  do  yield,  if  you  do  what  you  oughtn't  to, 
you'll  write  and  tell  me  about  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Stirling  put  her 
arms  about  Peter's  neck,  and  looked  wistfully  into  his  face. 

Peter  was  not  blind  to  what  this  workl  is.  Perhaps, 
had  his  mother  known  it  as  he  did,  she  might  have  seen 
how  unfair  her  petition  was.  He  did  not  like  to  say  yes, 
and  could  not  say  no.  * 

"I'll  try  to  go  straight,  mother, "he  replied,  "but  that's 
a  good  deal  to  promise." 

"It's  all  I'm  going  to  ask  of  you,  Peter,"  urged  Mrs. 
Stirling. 

"I  have  gone  through  four  years  of  my  life  with  noth- 
ing in  it  I  couldn't  tell  her,"  thought  Peter.  "If  that's 
possible,  I  guess  another  four  is."  Then  he  said  aloud, 
"Well,  mother,  since  you  want  it,  I'll  do  it." 

The  reason  of  Peter's  eagerness  to  get  to  New  York,  was 
chiefly  to  have  something  definite  ta  do.  He  tried 
to  obtain  this  distraction  of  occupation,  at  present,  in 
a  characteristic  way,  by  taking  excessively  long  walks, 
and  by  struggling  with  his  mother's  winter  supply  of  wood. 
He  thought  that  every  long  stride  and  every  swing  of  the 
axe  was  working  him  free  from  the  crushing  lack  of  pur- 
pose that  had  settled  upon  him.  He  imagined  it  would 
be  even  easier  when  he  reached  New  York.  "There'll  be 
plenty  to  keep  me  busy  there,"  was  his  mental  hope. 
*  All  his  ambitions  and  plans  seemed  in  a  sense  to  have 


34  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

become  meaningless,  made  so  by  the  something  which 
but  ten  days  before  had  been  unknown  to  him.  Like 
Moses  he  had  seen  the  promised  land.  But  Moses  died. 
He  had  seen  it,  and  must  live  on  without  it.  He  saw 
nothing  in  the  future  worth  striving  for,  except  a  struggle 
to  forget,  if  possible,  the  sweetest  and  dearest  mem- 
ory he  had  ever  known.  He  thought  of  the  epigram  ; 
"Most  men  can  die  well,  but  few  can  live  well." 
Three  weeks  before  he  had  smiled  over  it  and  set  it 
down  as  a  bit  of  French  cynicism.  Now — on  the  verge 
of  giving  his  mental  assent  to  the  theory,  a  pair  of 
slate-colored  eyes  in  some  way  came  into  his  mind,  and 
even  French  wit  was  discarded  therefrom. 

Peter  was  taking  his  disappointment  very  seriously,  if 
quietly.  Had  he  only  known  other  girls,  he  might 
have  made  a  safe  recovery,  for  love's  remedy  is  truly 
the  homeopathic  "similia  similibus  curantur,"  woman 
plural  being  the  natural  cure  for  woman  singular.  As  th0 
Russian  in  the  "  Last  Word  "  says,  "A  woman  can  do  any- 
thing with  a  man — provided  there  is  no  other  woman.1* 
In  Peter's  case  there  was  no  other  woman.  What  was 
worse,  there  seemed  little  prospect  of  there  being  one  in 
the  future. 


CHAPTER  vn£ 

SETTLING. 

THE  middle  of  July  found  Peter  in  New  Yorlc,  eager  to 
begin  his  grapple  with  the  future.  How  many  such 
stormers  have  dashed  themselves  against  its  high  ramparts, 
from  which  float  the  flags  of  "  worldly  success  ;•"  how 
many  have  fallen  at  the  first  attack  ;  how  many  have 
been  borne  away,  stricken  in  the  assault ;  how  many 
have  fought  on  bravely,  till  driven  back  by  pressure, 
sickness  or  hunger  ;  how  few  have  reached  the  top,  and 
won  their  colors  ! 

As  already  hinted,  Peter  had  chosen  the  law  as  his 
ladder  to  climb  these  ramparts.  Like  many  another 
fellow  he  had  but  a  dim  comprehension  of  the  struggle 
before  him.  His  college  mates  had  talked  over  profes- 


SETTLING. 


35 


sions,  and  agreed  that  law  was  a  good  one  in  New  York. 
The  attorney  in  his  native  town,  "had  known  of  cases 
where  men  without  knowing  a  soul  in  a  place,  had  started 
in  and  by  hard  work  and  merit  had  buut  up  a  good  prac- 
tice, and  I  don't  see  why  it  can't  be  done  as  well  in  New 
York  as  in  Lawrence  or  Lowell.  If  New  York  is  bigger, 
then  there  is  more  to  be  done/'  So  Petei^  whose  New 
York  acquaintances  were  limited  to  Watts  and  four 
other  collegians,  the  Pierces  and  their  fashionables,  and 
a  civil  engineer  originally  from  his  native  town,  had 
decided  that  the  way  to  go  about  it  was  to  get  an  office, 
hang  up  a  sign,  and  wait  for  clients. 

On  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  his  first  object  was  a 
lodging.  Selecting  from  the  papers  the  advertisements 
of  several  boarding-houses,  he  started  in  search  of  one. 
Watts  had  told  him  about  where  to  locate,  "so  as  to  live 
in  a  decent  part  of  the  city,"  but  after  seeing  and  pricing 
a  few  rooms  near  the  "Avenue,"  about  Thirtieth  Street, 
Peter  saw  that  Watts  had  been  thinking  of  his  own  purse, 
rather  than  of  his  friend's. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  cheaper  boarding-houses 
are?"  he  asked  the  woman  who  had  done  the  honors  of 
the  last  house. 

"If  it's  cheapness  you  want,  you'd  better  go  to  Bleecker 
Street,"  said  the  woman  with  a  certain  contemptuousness. 

Peter  thanked  her,  and,  walking  away,  accosted  the 
first  policeman. 

"  It's  Blaker  Strate,  is  it?  Take  the  Sixth  Avenue  cars, 
there  bey  ant,"  he  was  informed. 

"  Is  it  a  respectable  street  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"T)on't  be  afther  takin*  away  a  strate's  character,"  said 
the  policeman,  grinning  good-naturedly. 

"I  mean,"  explained  Peter,  "do  respectable  people 
live  there  ?  " 

"Shure,  it's  mostly  boarding-houses  for  young  men," 
replied  the  unit  of  "the  finest."  "Ye  know  best  what 
they're  loike." 

Reassured,  Peter  sought  and  found  board  in  Bleecker 
Street,  not  comprehending  that  he  had  gone  to  the  op- 
posite extreme.  It  was  a  dull  season,  and  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  such  a  room  as  suited  both  his  ex- 
pectations and  purse.  By  dinner-time  he  had  settled  his 
simple  household  gods  to  his  satisfaction,  and  slightly 


36  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

moderated  the  dreariness  of  the  third  floor  front,  so  far  as 
the  few  pictures  and  other  furnishings  from  his  college 
rooms  could  modify  the  effect  of  well-worn  carpet,  cheap, 
painted  furniture,  and  ugly  wall-paper. 

Descending  to  his  dinner,  in  answer  to  a  bell  more 
suitable  for  a  fire-alarm  than  for  announcing  such  an 
ordinary  occurrence  as  meals,  he  was  introduced  to  the 
four  young  men  who  were  all  the  boarders  the  summer 
season  had  left  in  the  house.  Two  were  retail  dry-goods 
clerks,  another  filled  some  function  in  a  butter  and  cheese 
store,  and  the  fourth  was  the  ticket-seller  at  one  of  the 
middle-grade  theatres.  They  all  looked  at  Peter's  clothes 
before  looking  at  his  face,  and  though  the  greetings  were 
civil  enough,  Peter's  ready-made  travelling  suit,  bought 
in  his  native  town,  and  his  quiet  cravat,  as  well  as  his 
lack  of  jewelry,  were  proof  positive  to  them  that  he 
did  not  merit  any  great  consideration.  It  was  very 
evident  that  the  ticket-seller,  not  merely  from  his  natural 
self-assertion  but  even  more  because  of  his  enviable 
acquaintance  with  certain  actresses  and  his  occasional 
privileges  in  the  way  of  free  passes,  was  the  acknowl- 
edged autocrat  of  the  table.  Under  his  guidance  the 
conversation  quickly  turned  to  theatrical  and  "show" 
talk.  Much  of  it  was  vulgar,  and  all  of  it  was  dull.  It 
was  made  the  worse  by  the  fact  that  they  all  tried  to  show 
off  a  little  before  the  newcomer,  to  prove  their  superiority 
and  extreme  knowingness  to  him.  To  make  Peter  the 
more  conscious  of  this,  they  asked  him  various  ques- 
tions. 

"  Do  you  like ? v  a  popular  soubrette  of  the  day. 

"What,  never  seen  her?  Where  on  earth  have  you 
"been  living'?  " 

"Oh!  Well,  shes  got  too  good  legs  to  waste  herself 
on  such  a  little  place/' 

They  would  like  to  have  asked  him  questions  about 
himself,  but  feared  to  seem  to  lower  themselves  from  their 
fancied  superiority,  by  showing-  interest  in  Peter.  One 
indeed  did  ask  him  what  business  he  was  in. 

"  I  haven't  got  to  work  yet/'  answered  Peter. 

"  Looking  for  a  place/'  was  the  mental  comment  of  all, 
for  they  could  not  conceive  of  any  one  entitled  to  practise 
law  not  airing  his  advantage.  So  they  went  on  patron- 
izing Peter,  and  glorifying  themselves.  When  time  had 


37 

developed  the  facts  that  he  was  a  lawyer,  a  college 
graduate,  and  a  man  who  seemed  to  have  plenty  of  money 
(from  the  standpoint  of  dry-goods  clerks)  their  respect  for 
him  considerably  increased.  He  could  not,  however, 
overcome  his  instinctive  dislike  to  them.  After  the  manly 
high-minded,  cultivated  Harvard  classmates,  every  mo- 
ment of  theii  society  was  only  endurable,  and  he  neither 
went  to  their  rooms  nor  asked  them  to  his.  Peter  had 
nothing  of  the  snob  in  him,  but  he  found  reading  or  writ- 
ing, or  a  tramp  about  the  city,  much  the  pleasanter  way 
of  passing  his  evenings. 

The  morning  after  this  first  day  in  New  York,  Peter 
called  on  his  friend,  the  civil  engineer,  to  consult  him 
about  an  office  ;  for  Watts  had  been  rather  hazy  in  regard 
to  where  he  might  best  locate  that.  Mr.  Converse  shook 
his  head  when  Peter  outlined  his  plan. 

"  Do  you  know  any  New  York  people,"  he  asked,  "  who 
will  be  likely  to  give  you  cases  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Peter. 

"Then  it's  absolutely  foolish  of  you  to  begin  that  way," 
said  Mr.  Converse.  "Get  into  a  lawyer's  office,  and 
make  friends  first  before  you  think  of  starting  by  yourself. 
You'll  otherwise  never  get  a  client." 
^  Peter  shook  his  head.  "  I've  thought  it  out,"  he  added, 
as  if  that  settled  it. 

Mr.  Converse  looked  at  him,  and,  really  liking  the  fel- 
low, was  about  to  explain  the  real  facts  to  him,  when 
a  client  came  in.  So  he  only  said,  "If  that's  so,  go 
ahead.  Locate  on  Broadway,  anywhere  between  the 
Battery  and  Canal  Street."  Later  in  the  day,  when  he 
had  time,  he  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  Poor  devil  1  Like 
all  the  rest." 

Anywhere  between  the  Battery  and  Canal  Street  repre- 
sented a  fairly  large  range  of  territory,  but  Peter  went  at 
the  matter  directly,  and  for  the  next  three  days  passed  his 
time  climbing  stairs,  and  inspecting  rooms  and  dark  cells. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  he  took  a  moderate-sized  office, 
far  back  in  a  building  near  Worth  Street.  Another 
day  saw  it  fitted  with  a  desk,  two  chairs  (for  Peter  as 
yet  dreamed  only  of  single  clients)  and  a  shelf  con- 
taining the  few  law  books  that  were  the  monuments  of 
his  Harvard  law  course,  and  his  summer  reading.  On 
the  following  Monday,  when  Peter  faced  his  office  door  he 


38  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLHVG. 

felt  a  glow  of  satisfaction  at  seeing  in  very  black  letters 
on  the  very  newly  scrubbed  glass  the  sign  of : 

PETER  STYLING- 
ATTORNEY  AND  COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW. 

He  had  come  to  his  office  early,  not  merely  because  at 
his  boarding  place  they  breakfasted  betimes,  but  because 
he  believed  that  early  hours  were  one  way  of  winning 
success.  He  was  a  little  puzzled  what  to  do  with  himself. 
He  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  thrummed  it  for  a  minute. 
Then  he  rose,  and  spread  his  books  more  along  the  shelf, 
so  as  to  leave  little  spaces  between  them,  thinking  that 
he  could  make  them  look  more  imposing  thereby.  After 
that  he  took  down  a  book — somebody  "On  Torts/' — and 
dug  into  it.  In  the  Harvard  course,  he  had  had  two 
hours  a  week  of  this  book,  but  Peter  worked  over  it  for 
nearly  three  hours.  Then  he  took  paper,  and  in  a  very 
clear,  beautifully  neat  hand,  made  an  abstract  of  what  he 
had  read.  Then  he  compared  his  abstract  with  the  book. 
Returning  the  book  to  the  shelf,  very  much  pleased  with 
the  accuracy  of  his  memory,  he  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  but  half-past  eleven.  Peter  sat  down  at  his  desk. 
"  Would  all  the  days  go  like  this  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  He 
had  got  through  the  first  week  by  his  room  and  office- 
seeking  and  furnishing-.  But  now  ?  He  could  not  read 
law  for  more  than  foul  hours  a  day,  and  get  anything 
from  it.  What  was  to  be  done  with  the  rest  of  the  time ? 
What  could  he  do  to  keep  himself  from  thinking  of — from 
thinking?  He  looked  out  of  his  one  window,  over  the 
dreary  stretch  of  roofs  and  the  drearier  light  shafts  spoken 
of  flatteringly  as  yards.  He  compressed  his  lips,  and 
resorted  once  more  to  his  book.  But  he  found  his  mind 
wandering,  and  realized  that  he  had  done  all  he  was 
equal  to  on  a  hot  July  morning.  Again  he  looked  out 
over  the  roofs.  Then  he  rose  and  stood  in  the  middle  (rf 
his  room,  thinking.  He  looked  at  his  watch  again,  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  right.  Then  he  opened  his  door  and 
glanced  about  the  hall.  It  was  one  blank,  except  fo? 
the  doors.  He  went  down  the  two  flights  of  stairs  to  the 
street.  Even  that  had  the  deserted  look  of  summer.  He 
turned  and  went  back  to  his  room.  Sitting  down  once  more 
at  his  desk,  and  opening  somebody  "On  Torts  "  again, 


HAPPINESS  B  Y  PROXY.  39 

he  took  up  his  pen  and  began  to  copy  the  pages  literally. 
He  wrote  steadily  for  a  time,  then  with  pauses.  Finally, 
the  hand  ceased  to  follow  the  lines,  and  became  straggly. 
Then  he  ceased  to  write.  The  words  blurred,  the  paper 
faded  from  view,  and  all  Peter  saw  was  a  pair  of  slate- 
colored  eyes.  He  laid  his  head  down  on  the  blotter,  and 
the  erect,  firm  figure  relaxed. 

There  is  no  more  terrible  ordeal  of  courage  than  passive 
waiting.  Most  of  us  can  be  brave  with  something  to  do, 
but  to  be  brave  for  months,  for  years,  with  nothing  to  be 
done  and  without  hope  of  the  future  !  So  it  was  in  Peter's 
case.  It  was  waiting — waiting — for  what  ?  If  clients  came, 
if  fame  came,  if  every  form  of  success  came, — for  what? 

There  is  nothing  in  loneliness  to  equal  the  loneliness  of 
a  big  city.  About  him,  so  crowded  and  compressed  to- 
gether as  to  risk  life  and  health,  were  a  million  people. 
Yet  not  a  soul  of  that  million  knew  that  Peter  sat  at  his 
desk,  with  his  head  on  his  blotter,  immovable,  from  uoou 
one  day  till  daylight  of  the  next. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
HAPPINESS  BY  PROXY. 

THE  window  of  Peter's  office  faced  east,  and  the  rays 
of  the  morning  sun  shining  dazzlingly  in  his  eyes 
forced  him  back  to  a  consciousness  of  things  mundane. 
He  rose,  and  went  downstairs,  to  find  the  night  watch- 
man just  opening  the  building.  Fortunately  he  had  al- 
ready met  the  man,  so  that  he  was  not  suspected  as  an 
intruder;  and  giving  him  a  pleasant  "good-morning," 
Peter  passed  into  the  street.  It  was  a  good  morning  in- 
deed, with  all  that  freshness  and  coolness  which  even  a 
great  city  cannot  take  from  a  summer  dawn.  For  some 
reason  Peter  felt  more  encouraged.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
consciousness  of  having  beaten  his  loneliness  and  misery 
by  mere  physical  endurance.  Perhaps  it  was  only  the 
natural  spring  of  twenty  years.  At  all  events,  he  felt 
dimly,  that  miserable  and  unhopeful  as  the  future  looked, 
he  was  not  conquered  yet ;  that  he  was  going  to  fight  0% 
come  what  might 


40  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

He  turned  to  the  river  front,  and,  after  bargaining  with 
a  passing  cart  for  a  pint  of  what  the  poorer  people 
of  the  city  buy  as  milk,  he  turned  north,  and  quicken- 
ing his  pace,  walked  till  he  had  left  the  city  proper 
and  had  reached  the  new  avenue  or  "drive,"  which,  by 
the  liberality  of  Mr.  Tweed  with  other  people's  money, 
was  then  just  approaching  completion.  After  walking 
the  length  of  it,  he  turned  back  to  his  boarding-place,  and 
after  a  plunge,  felt  as  if  he  could  face  and  fight  the  future 
to  any  extent. 

As  a  result  of  this  he  was  for  the  first  time  late  at  break- 
fast. The  presider  over  the  box-office  had  ascertained 
that  Peter  had  spent  the  night  out,  and  had  concluded  he 
would  have  a  gird  or  two  at  him.  He  failed,  however,  to 
carry  out  his  intention.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that 
both  he  and  his  companions  had  decided  to  "roast" 
Peter,  absent,  but  had  done  otherwise  with  Peter,  present. 
He  had  also  decided  to  say  to  Peter,  "Who's  your  dandy 
letter-writer  ?  "  But  he  also  failed  to  do  that.  This  last 
intention  referred  to  a  letter  that  lay  at  Peter's  place,  and 
which  was  examined  by  each  of  the  four  in  turn.  That 
letter  had  an  air  about  it.  It  was  written  on  linen  paper  of 
a  grade  which,  if  now  common  enough,  was  not  so  common 
at  that  time.  Then  it  was  postmarked  from  one  of  the 
most  fashionable  summer  resorts  of  the  country.  Finally, 
it  was  sealed  with  wax,  then  very  unusual,  and  the  wax 
bore  the  impression  of  a  crest.  They  were  all  rather 
disappointed  when  Peter  put  that  letter  in  his  pocket, 
without  opening  it. 

Peter  read  the  letter  at  his  office  that  morning.  It  was 
as  follows : 

GREY-COURT,  July  2ist. 
DEAR  OLD  MAN — 

Like  a  fool  I  overslept  myself  on  the  morning  you  left,  so  did  not 
get  my  talk  with  you.  You  know  I  never  get  up  early,  and  never  can, 
so  you  have  only  your  refusal  to  let  me  in  that  night  to  blame  for  our 
not  having  a  last  chat.  If  I  had  had  the  news  to  tell  you  that  I  now 
have,  I  should  not  have  let  you  keep  me  out,  even  if  you  had  forced  me 
to  break  my  way  in. 

Chum,  the  nicest  girl  in  the  world  has  told  me  that  she  loves  me,  and 
we  are  both  as  happy  as  happy  can  be.  I  know  you  will  not  be  in  a 
moment's  doubt  as  to  who  she  is.  I  have  only  run  down  here  to  break 
it  to  my  family,  and  shall  go  back  to  the  Shrubberies  early  next  week — 
to  talk  to  Mr.  Pierce,  you  understand  I 

My  governor  has  decided  that  a  couple  of  years'  travel  will  keep  me 
out  of  mischief  as  well  as  anything  else  he  can  devise,  and  as  the  pros- 


HAPPINESS  B  Y  PROXY.  41 

pcct  is  not  unpleasant,  I  am  not  going  to  let  my  new  plans  interfere  with 
it,  merely  making  my  journeyings  a  solitude  &  deux,  instead  of  solus.  So 
we  shall  be  married  in  September,  at  the  Shrubberies,  and  sail  for 
Europe  almost  immediately. 

Now,  I  want  you  to  stand  by  me  in  this,  as  you  have  in  other  things, 
and  help  me  through.  I  want  you,  in  short,  to  be  my  "  best  man  "  as 
you  have  been  my  best  friend.  "  Best  man,"  I  should  inform  you,  is  an 
English  wedding  institution,  which  our  swell  people  have  suddenly  dis- 
covered is  a  necessity  to  make  a  marriage  ceremony  legal.  He  doesn't 
do  much.  Holding  his  principal's  hat,  I  believe,  is  the  most  serious 
duty  that  falls  to  him,  though  perhaps  not  stepping  on  the  bridal  dresses 
is  more  difficult. 

My  Mamma  wants  me  to  drive  with  her,  so  this  must  be  continued  in 
r.  vr  next. 

Aff.,  W. 

Peter  did  not  read  law  that  morning1.  But  after  sitting 
in  his  chair  for  a  couple  of  hours,  looking-  at  the  opposite 
wall,  and  seeing  something  quite  different,  he  took  his 
pen,  and  without  pause,  or  change  of  face,  wrote  two 
letters,  as  follows  : 

DEAR  WATTS  : 

You  hardly  surprised  me  by  your  letter.  I  had  suspected,  both  from 
your  frequent  visits  to  the  Shrubberies,  and  from  a  way  in  which  you 
occasionally  spoke  of  Miss  Pierce,  that  you  loved  her.  After  seeing 
her,  I  felt  that  it  was  not  possible  you  did  not.  So  I  was  quite  prepared 
for  your  news.  You  have  indeed  keen  fortunate  in  winning  such  a  girl. 
That  I  wish  you  every  joy  and  happiness  I  need  not  say. 

I  think  you  could  have  found  some  other  of  the  fellows  better  suited 
to  stand  with  you,  but  if  you  think  otherwise,  I  shall  not  fail  you. 

You  will  have  to  tell  me  about  details,  clothes,  etc.  Perhaps  you  can 
suggest  a  gift  that  will  do  ?  I  remember  Miss  Pierce  saying  she  was  very 
fond  of  pearls.  Would  it  be  right  to  give  something  or  that  kind  ? 

Faithfully  yours,  PETER. 

DEAR  Miss  PIERCE  : 

A  letter  from  Watts  this  morning  tells  me  of  his  good  fortune.     Fear- 
ing lest  my  blindness  may  perhaps  still  give  you  pain,  I  write  to  say  that 
your  happiness  is  the  most  earnest  wish  of  my  life,  and  nothing  which 
increases  it  can  be  other  than  good  news  to  me.     If  I  can  ever  serve 
you  in  any  way,  you  will  be  doing  me  a  great  favor  by  telling  me  how. 
Please  give  my  regards  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pierce,  and  believe  me, 
Yours  ever  sincerely, 

PETER  STIRLING. 

After  these  letters  were  written,  Peter  studied  the  wall 
again  for  a  time.  Studied  it  till  long  after  the  hour  when 
he  should  have  lunched.  The  wall  had  three  cracks  in  it 
which  approximated  to  an  outline  of  Italy,  but  though  Peter 
gazed  at  this  particular  wall  a  good  many  hours  in  the 


42  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

next  few  weeks,  he  did  not  discover  this  interesting  fact 
till  long  after  this  time  of  wall-gazing. 

In  the  early  morning  and  after  dinner,  in  spite  of  the 
summer  heat,  he  took  long  walks.  During  the  day  he 
sat  in  his  office  doing  nothing,  with  the  exception  of  an 
occasional  letter  to  his  mother,  and  one  or  two  to  Watts 
in  respect  to  the  coming  wedding.  Two  visits  to  the 
tailor's,  and  another  to  Tiffany's,  which  resulted  in  a  pearl 
pin  rather  out  of  proportion  to  his  purse,  were  almost  the 
sole  variations  of  this  routine.  It  was  really  a  relief  to 
this  terrible  inactivity,  when  he  found  himself  actually  at 
the  Shrubberies,  the  afternoon  before  the  wedding. 

Peter  was  rather  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  he 
went  through  the  next  twenty-four  hours.  It  is  true  that 
the  house  was  too  full,  and  each  person  too  busy,  to  trouble 
the  silent  groomsman  with  attention,  so  he  might  have 
done  pretty  much  what  he  wished,  without  being  noticed. 
He  arrived  late,  thus  having  no  chance  for  greetings  till 
after  a  hurried  dressing  for  dinner,  when  they  were  made 
in  the  presence  of  the  whole  party,  who  had  waited  his 
coming  to  go  to  the  meal.  He  went  through  the  ordeal 
well,  even  that  with  Miss  Pierce,  actually  showing  less 
embarrassment  than  she  did.  What  was  more  astonish- 
ing, he  calmly  offered  his  arm  to  the  bridesmaid  who  fell 
to  his  lot,  and,  after  seating  her,  chatted  without  thinking 
that  he  was  talking.  Indeed,  he  hardly  heeded  what  he 
did  say,  but  spoke  mechanically,  as  a  kind  of  refuge 
from  thought  and  feeling. 

"  I  didn't  find  him  a  bit  so/'  the  girl  said  to  Miss  Pierce, 
later  in  the  evening,  with  an  indefmiteness  which,  if  not 
merely  feminine,  must  presuppose  a  previous  conversa- 
tion. "  He  isn't  exactly  talkative,  but  he  is  perfectly  easy 
to  get  on  with.  I  tried  him  on  New  York,  and  found  he 
had  gone  into  a  good  many  odd  places  and  can  tell  about 
them.  He  describes  things  very  well,  so  that  one  sees 
them." 

"It  must  be  your  tact,  then,  Miss  Leroy,"  said  Mrs. 
Pierce,  "  for  we  could  get  nothing  out  of  him  before." 

"No?  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and,  between  our- 
selves, I  think  he  disapproved  of  me.  If  Helen  hadn't  told 
me  about  him,  I  should  have  been  very  cool  to  him,  his 
manner  was  so  objectionable.  He  clearly  talked  to  me 
because  he  felt  it  a  duty,  and  not  a  pleasure." 


HAPPINESS  B  Y  PROXY.  43 

"That's  only  that  unfortunate  manner  of  his,"  said 
Helen.  "  I  really  think  at  heart  he's  dreadfully  afraid  of 
us.  At  least  that's  what  Watts  says.  But  he  only  be- 
haves as  if — as  if — well,  you  know  what  I  mean,  Alice  !  " 

"Exactly,"  said  Alice.  "You  can't  describe  it.  He's 
so  cool,  and  stolid,  and  silent,  that  you  feel  shoddy  and 
cheap,  and  any  simple  little  remark  doesn't  seem  enough 
to  say.  You  try  to  talk  up  to  him,  and  yet  feel  small  all 
the  time. " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Helen.  "You  talk  down  to  him,  as 
if  he  were — were — your  old  grandfather,  or  some  one  else 
you  admired,  but  thought  very  dull  and  old-fashioned." 

1 1  But  the  worst  is  the  way  he  looks  at  you.  So  gravely, 
even  when  you  try  to  joke.  Now  I  really  think  I'm  pass- 
ably pretty,  but  Mr.  Stirling  said  as  plainly  as  could  be  : 
1 1  look  at  you  occasionally  because  that's  the  proper  thing 
to  do,  when  one  talks,  but  I  much  prefer  looking  at  that 
picture  over  your  head.'  I  don't  believe  he  noticed  how 
my  hair  was  dressed,  or  the  color  of  my  eyes.  Such  men 
are  absolutely  maddening.  When  they've  finished  their 
smoke,  I'm  going  to  make  him  notice  me." 

But  Miss  Leroy  failed  in  her  plan,  try  as  she  would. 
Peter  did  not  notice  girls  any  more.  After  worrying  in 
his  school  and  college  days,  over  what  women  thought 
of  him  and  how  they  treated  him,  he  had  suddenly  ceased 
to  trouble  himself  about  them.  It  was  as  if  a  man,  after 
long  striving  for  something,  had  suddenly  discovered  that 
he  did  not  wish  it — that  to  him  women's  opinions  had 
become  worthless.  Perhaps  in  this  case  it  was  only  the 
Fox  and  the  Grapes  over  again.  At  all  events,  from  this 
time  on  Peter  cared  little  what  women  did.  Courteous 
he  tried  to  be,  for  he  understood  this  to  be  a  duty.  But 
that  was  all.  They  might  laugh  at  him,  snub  him,  avoid 
him.  He  cared  not.  He  had  struck  women  out  of  his 
plan  of  life.  And  this  disregard,  as  we  have  already  sug- 
gested, was  sure  to  produce  a  strange  change,  not  merely 
in  Peter,  but  in  women's  view  and  treatment  of  him. 
Peter  trying  to  please  them,  by  dull,  ordinary  platitudes, 
was  one  thing.  Peter  avoiding  them  and  talking  to  them 
when  needs  must,  with  that  distant,  uninterested  look 
and  voice,  was  quite  another. 

The  next  morning,  Peter,  after  finding  what  a  fifth 
wheel  in  a  coach  all  men  are  at  weddings,  finally  stood 


44  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

up  with  his  friend.  He  had  not  been  asked  to  stay  on  for 
another  night,  as  had  most  of  the  bridal  party,  so  he 
slipped  away  as  soon  as  his  duty  was  done,  and  took  a 
train  that  put  him  into  New  York  that  evening.  A  week 
later  he  said  good-bye  to  the  young  couple,  on  the  deck 
of  a  steamship. 

"  Don't  forget  us,  Peter,"  shouted  Watts,  after  the  fasts 
were  cast  off  and  the  steamer  was  slowly  moving  into 
rnid-stream. 

Peter  waved  his  hat,  and  turning,  walked  off  the  pier. 

" Could  he  forget  them?"  was  the  question  he  asked 
himself. 


CHAPTER  X. 
WAITING. 

"My  friend,"  said  an  old  and  experienced  philosopher  to 
a  young  man,  who  with  all  the  fire  and  impatience  of  his 
years  wished  to  conquer  the  world  quickly,  "  youth  has 
many  things  to  learn,  but  one  of  the  most  important  is 
never  to  let  another  man  beat  you  at  waiting. " 

Peter  went  back  to  his  desk,  and  waited.  He  gave  up 
looking  at  the  wall  of  his  office,  and  took  to  somebody 
"On  Torts"  again.  When  that  was  finished  he  went 
through  the  other  law  books  of  his  collection.  Those 
done,  he  began  to  buy  others,  and  studied  them  with 
great  thoroughness  and  persistence.  In  one  of  his  many 
walks,  he  stumbled  upon  the  Apprentices'  Library.  Going 
in,  he  inquired  about  its  privileges,  and  became  a  regular 
borrower  of  books.  Peter  had  always  been  a  reader,  but 
now  he  gave  from  three  or  four  hours  a  day  to  books, 
aside  from  his  law  study.  Although  he  was  slow  the 
number  of  volumes,  he  not  merely  read,  but  really  mas- 
tered was  marvellous.  Books  which  he  liked,  without  much 
regard  to  their  popular  reputation,  he  at  once  bought ; 
for  his  simple  life  left  him  the  ability  to  indulge  himself  in 
most  respects  within  moderation.  He  was  particularly 
careful  to  read  a  classic  occasionally  to  keep  up  his  Greek 
and  Latin,  and  for  the  same  reason  he  read  French  and 
German  books  aloud  to  himself.  Before  the  year  was  out, 
he  was  a  recognized  quantity  in  certain  book-stores,  and 


WAITING  43 

was  privileged  to  browse  at  will  both  among  old  and  new 
books  without  interference  or  suggestion  from  the  "  stock  " 
clerks.  ' '  There  isn't  any  good  trying  to  sell  him  anything, " 
remarked  one.  "  He  makes  up  his  mind  for  himself." 

His  reading  was  broadened  out  from  the  classic  and 
belles-lettres  grooves  that  were  still  almost  a  cult  with 
the  college  graduate,  by  another  recreation  now  become 
habitual  with  him.  In  his  long  tramps  about  the  city,  to 
vary  the  monotony,  he  would  sometimes  stop  and  chat 
with  people — with  a  policeman,  a  fruit-vender,  a  long- 
shore-man or  a  truckster.  It  mattered  little  who  it  was. 
Then  he  often  entered  manufactories  and  "yards "and 
asked  if  he  could  go  through  them,  studying  the  methods, 
and  talking  to  the  overseer  or  workers  about  the  trade. 
When  he  occasionally  encountered  some  one  who  told  him 
"your  kind  ain't  got  no  business  here"  he  usually  found 
the  statement  "  my  father  was  a  mill-overseer"  a  way  to 
break  down  the  barrier.  He  had  to  use  it  seldom,  for  he 
dressed  plainly  and  met  the  men  in  a  way  which  seldom 
failed  to  make  them  feel  that  he  was  one  of  them.  After 
such  inspection  and  chat,  he  would  get  books  from  the 
library,  and  read  up  about  the  business  or  trade,  finding 
that  in  this  way  he  could  enjoy  works  otherwise  too 
technical,  and  really  obtain  a  very  good  knowledge  of 
many  subjects.  Just  how  interesting  he  found  such  books 
as  "Our  Fire-Laddies,"  which  he  read  from  cover  to 
cover,  after  an  inspection  of,  and  chat  with,  the  men  of 
the  nearest  fire-engine  station;  or  Latham's  "The 
Sewage  Difficulty,"  which  the  piping  of  uptown  New 
York  induced  him  to  read  ;  and  others  of  diverse  types  is 
questionable.  Probably  it  was  really  due  to  his  isolation, 
but  it  was  much  healthier  than  gazing  at  blank  walls. 

When  the  courts  opened,  Peter  kept  track  of  the  calen- 
dars, and  whenever  a  case  or  argument  promised  to  be 
interesting,  or  to  call  out  the  great  lights  of  the  profes- 
sion, he  attended  and  listened  to  them.  He  tried  to  write 
out  the  arguments  used,  from  notes,  and  finally  this 
practice  induced  him  to  give  two  evenings  a  week  during 
the  winter  mastering  shorthand.  It  was  really  only 
a  mental  discipline,  for  any  case  of  importance  was 
obtainable  in  print  almost  as  soon  as  argued,  but  Peter 
was  trying  to  put  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes  out  of  his 
thoughts,  and  employed  this  as  one  of  the  means. 


46  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

When  winter  came,  and  his  long  walks  became  less 
possible,  he  turned  to  other  things.  More  from  necessity 
than  choice,  he  visited  the  art  and  other  exhibitions  as 
they  occurred,  he  went  to  concerts,  and  to  plays,  all  with 
due  regard  to  his  means,  and  for  this  reason  the  latter 
were  the  most  seldom  indulged  in.  Art  and  music  did 
not  come  easy  to  him,  but  he  read  up  on  both,  not  merely 
in  standard  books,  but  in  the  reviews  of  the  daily  press, 
and  just  because  there  was  so  much  in  both  that  he  failed 
to  grasp,  he  studied  the  more  carefully  and  patiently. 

One  trait  of  his  New  England  training  remained  to  him. 
He  had  brought  a  letter  from  his  own  Congregational 
church  in  his  native  town,  to  one  of  the  large  churches  of 
the  same  sect  in  New  York,  and  when  admitted,  hired 
a  sitting  and  became  a  regular  attendant  at  both  morning 
and  evening  service.  In  time  this  produced  a  call  from 
his  new  pastor.  It  was  the  first  new  friend  he  had  gained 
in  New  York.  "He  seems  a  quiet,  well-informed  fel- 
low," was  the  clergyman's  comment;  "I  shall  make  a 
point  of  seeing  something  of  him."  But  he  was  pastor 
of  a  very  large  and  rich  congregation,  and  was  a  hard- 
worked  and  hard-entertained  man,  so  his  intention  was 
not  realized. 

Peter  spent  Christmastide  with  his  mother,  who  worried 
not  a  little  over  his  loss  of  flesh. 

"  You  have  been  overworking,"  she  said  anxiously. 

"  Why  mother,  I  haven't  had  a  client  yet,"  laughed 
Peter. 

' ' Then  you've  worried  over  not  getting  on,"  said  his 
mother,  knowing  perfectly  well  that  it  was  nothing  of  the 
sort.  She  had  hoped  that  Peter  would  be  satisfied 
with  his  six  months'  trial,  but  did  not  mention  her  wish. 
She  marvelled  to  herself  that  New  York  had  not  yet  dis- 
covered his  greatness. 

When  Peter  returned  to  the  city,  he  made  a  change  in 
his  living  arrangements.  His  boarding-place  had  filled 
up  with  the  approach  of  winter,  but  with  the  class  of 
men  he  already  knew  too  well.  Even  though  he  met 
them  only  at  meals,  their  atmosphere  was  intolerable 
to  him.  When  a  room  next  his  office  fell  vacant,  and 
went  begging  at  a  very  cheap  price,  he  decided  to  use 
it  as  a  bedroom.  So  he  moved  his  few  belongings  on 
his  return  from  his  visit  to  his  mother's. 


WAITING.  47 

Although  he  had  not  been  particularly  friendly  to  the 
other  boarders,  nor  made  himself  obtrusive  in  the  least, 
not  one  of  them  failed  to  speak  of  his  leaving.  Two  or 
three  affected  to  be  pleased,  but  "  Butter-and-cheese  " 
said  he  "was  a  first-rate  chap/'  and  this  seemed  to  gain 
the  assent  of  the  table  generally. 

"I'm  dreadfully  sorry  to  lose  him/' his  landlady  in- 
formed her  other  boarders,  availing  herself,  perhaps,  of  the 
chance  to  deliver  a  side  hit  at  some  of  them.  "  He  never 
has  complained  once,  since  he  came  here,  and  he  kept 
his  room  as  neat  as  if  he  had  to  take  care  of  it  himself. " 

"Well/'  said  the  box-office  oracle,  "I  guess  he's  O.  K., 
if  he  is  a  bit  stiff ;  and  a  fellow  who's  best  man  to  a  big 
New  York  swell,  and  gets  his  name  in  all  the  papers, 
doesn't  belong  in  a  seven-dollar,  hash-seven-days-a-week, 
Bleecker  Street  boarding-house." 

Peter  fitted  his  room  up  simply,  the  sole  indulgence  (if 
properly  so  called)  being  a  bath,  which  is  not  a  usual 
fitting  of  a  New  York  business  office,  consciences  not  yet 
being  tubbable.  He  had  made  his  mother  show  him  how 
to  make  coffee,  and  he  adopted  the  Continental  system  of 
meals,  having  rolls  and  butter  sent  in,  and  making  a 
French  breakfast  in  his  own  rooms.  Then  he  lunched 
regularly  not  far  from  his  office,  and  dined  wherever  his 
afternoon  walk,  or  evening  plans  carried  him.  He  found 
that  he  saved  no  money  by  the  change,  but  he  saved  his 
feelings,  and  was  far  freer  to  come  and  go  as  he  chose. 

He  did  not  hear  from  the  honeymoon  party.  Watts 
had  promised  to  write  to  him  and  send  his  address 
"as  soon  as  we  decide  whether  we  pass  the  winter  in 
Italy  or  on  the  Nile."  But  no  letter  came.  Peter  called 
on  the  Pierces,  only  to  find  them  out,  and  as  no  notice 
was  taken  of  his  pasteboard,  he  drew  his  own  inference, 
and  did  not  repeat  the  visit. 

Such  was  the  first  year  of  Peter's  New  York  life.  He 
studied,  he  read,  he  walked,  and  most  of  all,  he  waited. 
But  no  client  came,  and  he  seemed  no  nearer  one  than 
the  day  he  had  first  seen  his  own  name  on  his  office  door. 
"How  much  longer  will  I  have  to  wait?  How  long 
will  my  patience  hold  out  ?  "  These  were  the  questions 
he  asked  himself,  when  for  a  moment  he  allowed  himself 
to  lose  courage.  Then  he  would  take  to  a  bit  of  wall- 
gazing,  while  dreaming  of  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes. 


4&  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER  XL 
NEW  FRIENDS. 

MR.  CONVERSE  had  evidently  thought  that  the  only  way 
for  Peter  to  get  on  was  to  make  friends.  But  in  this  first 
year  Peter  did  not  made  a  single  one  that  could  be  really 
called  such.  His  second  summer  broadened  his  ac- 
quaintance materially,  though  in  a  direction  which  prom- 
ised him  little  law  practice. 

When  the  warm  weather  again  closed  the  courts  and 
galleries,  and  brought  an  end  to  the  concerts  and  thea- 
tres, Peter  found  time  harder  to  kill,  the  more,  because 
he  had  pretty  well  explored  the  city.  Still  he  walked 
much  to  help  pass  the  time,  and  to  get  outside  of  his 
rooms  into  the  air.  For  the  same  reason  he  often  car- 
ried his  book,  after  the  heat  of  the  day  was  over,  to  one 
of  the  parks,  and  did  his  reading  there.  Not  far  from  his 
office,  eastwardly,  where  two  streets  met  at  an  angle, 
was  a  small  open  space  too  limited  to  be  called  a  square, 
even  if  its  shape  had  not  been  a  triangle.  Here,  under 
the  shade  of  two  very  sickly  trees,  surrounded  by  tall 
warehouses,  were  a  couple  of  benches.  Peter  sat  here 
many  evenings  smoking  his  pipe.  Though  these  few 
square  feet  made  perhaps  the  largest  "  open  "  within  half 
a  mile  of  his  office,  the  angle  was  confined  and 
dreary.  Hence  it  is  obvious  there  must  have  been  some 
attraction  to  Peter,  since  he  was  such  a  walker,  to  make 
him  prefer  spending  his  time  there  rather  than  in  the 
parks  not  far  distant.  The  attraction  was  the  children. 
'  Only  a  few  hundred  feet  away  was  one  of  the  most 
densely  crowded  tenement  districts  of  New  York.  It  had 
no  right  to  be  there,  for  the  land  was  wanted  for  busi- 
ness purposes,  but  the  hollow  on  which  it  was  built  had 
been  a  swamp  in  the  old  days,  and  the  soft  land,  and 
perhaps  the  unhealthiness,  had  prevented  the  erection  of 
great  warehouses  and  stores,  which  almost  surrounded 
it.  So  it  had  been  left  to  the  storage  of  human  souls 
instead  of  merchandise,  for  valuable  goods  need  careful 


WEW  FRIENDS.  49 

housing,  while  any  place  serves  to  pack  humanity.  It 
was  not  a  nice  district  to  go  through,  for  there  was  a 
sense  of  heat,  and  dirt,  and  smell,  and  crowd,  and  toil,, 
and  sorrow  throughout.  It  was  probably  no  nicer  to  live 
in,  and  nothing  proved  it  better  than  the  overflow  of  the 
children  therefrom  into  the  little,  hot,  paved,  airless 
angle.  Here  they  could  be  found  from  five  in  the  morn- 
ing till  twelve  at  night.  Here,  with  guards  set,  to  give 
notice  of  the  approach  of  the  children's  joy-destroying 
Siva — otherwise  the  policeman — they  played  ball.  Here 
"cat"  and  "one  old  cat"  render  bearable  many  a  wilt- 
ing hour  for  the  little  urchins.  Here  "Sally  in  our 
Alley"  and  "Skip-rope"  made  the  little  girls  forget  that 
the  temperature  was  far  above  blood-heat.  Here  of  an 
evening,  Peter  smoked  and  watched  them. 

At  first  he  was  an  object  of  suspicion,  and  the  sport 
visibly  ceased  when  he  put  in  an  appearance.  But  he 
simply  sat  on  one  of  the  benches  and  puffed  his  pipe,  and 
after  a  few  evenings  they  lost  all  fear  of  him,  and  went 
on  as  if  he  were  not  there.  In  time,  an  intercourse 
sprang  up  between  them.  One  evening  Peter  appeared 
with  a  stick  of  wood,  and  as  he  smoked,  he  whittled  at 
it  with  a  real  jack-knife  !  He  was  scrutinized  by  the 
keen-eyed  youngsters  with  interest  at  once,  and  before  he 
had  whittled  long,  he  had  fifty  children  sitting  in  the 
shape  of  a  semicircle  on  the  stone  pavement,  watching 
his  doings  with  almost  breathless  interest.  When  the 
result  of  his  work  actually  developed  into  a  "cat"  of 
marvellous  form  and  finish,  a  sigh  of  intense  joy  passed 
through  the  boy  part  of  his  audience.  When  the  "cat" 
was  passed  over  to  their  mercies,  words  could  not  be 
found  to  express  their  emotions.  Another  evening,  the 
old  clothes-line  that  served  for  a  jump-rope,  after  having 
bravely  rubbed  against  the  pavement  many  thousand 
times  in  its  endeavor  to  lighten  the  joyless  life  of  the  lit- 
tle pack,  finally  succumbed,  worn  through  the  centre  and 
quite  beyond  hope  of  further  knotting.  Then  Peter  rose, 
and  going  to  one  of  the  little  shops  that  supplied  the  dis- 
trict, soon  returned  with  a  real  jump-rope,  with  wooden 
handles  I  So  from  time  to  time,  real  tops,  real  dolls,  real 
marbles  and  various  other  real,  if  cheap,  things,  hitherto 
Only  enjoyed  in  dreams,  or  at  most  through  home-made 
attempts,  found  their  way  into  the  angle,  and  were  dis- 


jo  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

tributed  among  the  little  imps.  They  could  not  resist 
such  subtle  bribery,  and  soon  Peter  was  on  as  familiar 
and  friendly  a  footing  as  he  could  wish.  He  came  to 
know  each  by  name,  and  was  made  the.  umpire  in  all 
their  disputes  and  the  confidant  in  all  their  troubles. 
They  were  a  dirty,  noisy,  lawless,  and  godless  little  com- 
munity, but  they  were  interesting  to  watch,  and  the 
lonely  fellow  grew  to  like  them  much,  for  with  all  their 
premature  sharpness,  they  were  really  natural,  and  re- 
sponded warmly  to  his  friendly  overtures. 

After  a  time,  Peter  tried  to  help  them  a  little  more  than 
by  mere  small  gifts.  A  cheap  box  of  carpenter's  tools 
was  bought,  and  under  his  superintendence,  evenings 
were  spent  in  the  angle,  in  making  various  articles.  A 
small  wheel  barrow,  a  knife-and-fork  basket,  a  clock- 
bracket  and  other  easy  things  were  made,  one  at  a  time. 
All  boys,  and  indeed  some  girls,  were  allowed  to  help. 
One  would  saw  off  the  end  of  a  plank  ;  another  would 
rule  a  pencil  line  ;  the  next  would  plane  the  plank  down 
to  that  line ;  the  next  would  bore  the  holes  in  it ;  the  next 
would  screw  it  into  position  ;  the  next  would  sandpaper 
it.  The  work  went  very  slowly,  but  every  one  who 
would,  had  his  share  in  it,  while  the  rest  sat  and  watched. 
When  the  article  was  completed,  lots  were  drawn  for  it, 
and  happy  was  the  fortunate  one  who  drew  the  magnifi- 
cent prize  in  life's  lottery  ! 

Occasionally  too,  Peter  brought  a  book  with  him,  and 
read  it  aloud  to  them.  He  was  rather  surprised  to  find 
that  they  did  not  take  to  Sunday-school  stories  or  fairy 
tales.  Wild  adventures  in  foreign  lands  were  the  most 
effective  ;  and  together  they  explored  the  heart  of  Africa, 
climbed  the  Swiss  mountains,  fought  the  Western  Indians, 
and  attempted  to  discover  the  North  Pole.  They  had  a 
curious  liking  for  torture,  blood-letting,  and  death.  Nor 
were  they  without  discrimination. 

"  I  guess  that  fellow  is  only  working  his  jaw,"  was  one 
little  chap's  criticism  at  a  certain  point  of  the  narrative  of 
a  well-known  African  explorer,  rather  famous  for  his  suc- 
cess in  advertising  himself.  Again,  "  that's  bully,"  was 
the  comment  uttered  by  another,  when  Peter,  rather  than 
refuse  their  request  to  read  aloud,  had  been  compelled  to 
choose  something  in  Macaulay's  Essays,  and  had  read 
the  description  of  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta.  "  Say,  mis- 


NE  W  FRIENDS.  5 1 

ter,"  said  another,  "I  don't  believe  that  fellow  wasn't 
there,  for  he  never  could  a  told  it  like  that,  if  he  wasn't/' 

As  soon  as  his  influence  was  secure,  Peter  began  to 
affect  them  in  other  ways.  Every  fight,  every  squabble, 
was  investigated,  and  the  blame  put  where  it  belonged. 
Then  a  mandate  went  forth  that  profanity  was  to  cease  : 
and,  though  contrary  to  every  instinct  and  habit,  cease 
it  did  after  a  time,  except  for  an  occasional  uncon- 
scious slip.  "  Sporadic  swearing,"  Peter  called  it,  and 
explained  what  it  meant  to  the  children,  and  why  he  for- 
gave that,  while  punishing  the  intentional  swearer  with 
exclusion  from  his  favor.  So,  too,  the  girls  were  told  that 
to  "poke"  tongues  at  each  other,  and  make  faces,  was 
but  another  way  of  swearing ;  "for  they  all  mean  that 
there  is  hate  in  your  hearts,  and  it  is  that  which  is  wrong, 
and  not  the  mere  words  or  faces."  He  ran  the  risk  of 
being  laughed  at,  but  they  didn't  laugh,  for  something  in 
his  way  of  talking  to  them,  even  when  verging  on  what 
they  called  "goody-goody,"  inspired  them  with  re- 
spect. 

Before  many  weeks  of  this  intercourse,  Peter  could  not 
stroll  east  from  his  office  without  being  greeted  with  yells 
of  recognition.  The  elders,  too,  gave  him  "good-even- 
ing "  pleasantly  and  smiled  genially.  The  children  had 
naturally  told  their  parents  about  him,  of  his  wonderful 
presents,  and  great  skill  with  knife  and  string. 

"He  can  whittle  anything  you  ask  I" 

"  He  knows  how  to  make  things  you  want  1  " 

"  He  can  tie  a  knot  sixteen  different  kinds  I  " 

"He  can  fold  a  newspaper  into  soldiers'  and  firemen's 
caps !  " 

"  He's  friends  with  the  policeman  !  " 

Such  laudations,  and  a  hundred  more,  the  children  sang 
of  him  to  their  elders. 

"Oh,"  cried  one  little  four-year-old  girl,  voicing  the 
unanimous  feeling  of  the  children,  "  Mister  Peter  is  just 
shplendid." 

So  the  elders  nodded  and  smiled  when  they  met  him, 
and  he  was  pretty  well  known  to  several  hundred 
people  whom  he  knew  not. 

But  another  year  passed,  and  still  no  client  came. 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING* 


CHAPTER  XII. 
HIS    FIRST    CLIENT. 

PETER  sat  in  his  office,  one  hot  July  day,  two  years 
after  his  arrival,  writing  to  his  mother.  He  had  but  just 
returned  to  New  York,  after  a  visit  to  her,  which  had  left 
him  rather  discouraged,  because,  for  the  first  time,  she  had 
pleaded  with  him  to  abandon  his  attempt  and  return  to 
his  native  town.  He  had  only  replied  that  he  was  not  yet 
prepared  to  acknowledge  himself  beaten  ;  but  the  request 
and  his  mother's  disappointment  had  worried  him.  While 
he  wrote  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and,  in  response  to 
his  "come  in,"  a  plain-looking  laborer  entered  and  stood 
awkwardly  before  him. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Peter,  seeing  that  he 
must  assist  the  man  to  state  his  business. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  man,  humbly,  "  it's 
Missy.  And  I  hope  you'll  pardon  me  for  troubling  you." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Peter.      "  What  about  Missy?  "' 

"  She's — the  doctor  says  she's  dying,"  said  the  man, 
adding,  with  a  slight  suggestion  of  importance,  blended 
with  the  evident  grief  he  felt :  "  Sally,  and  Bridget  Milli- 
gan  are  dead  already. " 

"  And  what  can  I  do? "  said  Peter,  sympathetically,  if 
very  much  at  sea. 

"  Missy  wants  to  see  you  before  she  goes.  It's  only  a 
child's  wish,  sir,  and  you  needn't  trouble  about  it.  But  I 
had  to  promise  her  I'd  come  and  ask  you.  I  hope  it's  no 
offence  ?  " 

"  No."  Peter  rose,  and,  passing  to  the  next  room,  took 
his  hat,  and  the  two  went  into  the  street  together. 

"  What  is  the  trouble?  "  asked  Peter,  as  they  walked. 

"  We  don't  know,  sir.  They  were  all  took  yesterday, 
and  two  are  dead  already."  The  man  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes  with  his  shirt-sleeve,  smearing  the  red  brick- 
dust  with  which  it  was  powdered,  over  his  face, 

"  You've  had  a  doctor?  " 


ff/S  FIRST  CLIENT.  53 

"  Not  till  this  morning.  We  didn't  think  it  was  bad  at 
first." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Blackett,  sir— Jim  Blackett." 

Peter  began  to  see  daylight  He  remembered  both  a 
Sally  and  Matilda  Blackett.  That  was  probably  "Missy." 

A  walk  of  six  blocks  transferred  them  to  the  centre  of  the 
tenement  district.  Two  flights  of  stairs  brought  them  to 
the  Blackett's  rooms.  On  the  table  of  the  first,  which  was 
evidently  used  both  as  a  kitchen  and  sitting-room,  already 
lay  a  coffin  containing  a  seven-year-old  girl.  Candles 
burned  at  the  four  corners,  adding  to  the  bad  air  and 
heat.  In  the  room  beyond,  in  bed,  with  a  tired-looking 
woman  tending  her,  lay  a  child  of  five.  Wan  and  pale  as 
well  could  be,  with  perspiration  standing  in  great  drops 
on  the  poor  little  hot  forehead,  the  hand  of  death,  as  it  so 
often  does,  had  put  something  into  the  face  never  there 
before. 

"  Oh,  Mister  Peter/'  the  child  said,  on  catching  sight  of 
him,  "  I  said  you'd  come." 

Peter  took  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  the  little  head. 
Then  he  took  a  newspaper,  lying  on  a  chair,  twisted  it 
into  a  rude  fan,  and  began  fanning  the  child  as  he  sat  on 
the  bed. 

"  What  did  you  want  me  for  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  the  story  you  read  from  the  book  ? 
The  one  about  the  little  girl  who  went  to  the  country,  and 
was  given  a  live  dove  and  real  flowers. " 

Peter  began  telling  the  story  as  well  as  he  could  re- 
member it,  but  it  was  never  finished.  For  while  he 
talked  another  little  girl  went  to  the  country,  a  far  coun- 
try, from  which  there  is  no  return — and  a  very  ordinary 
little  story  ended  abruptly. 

The  father  and  mother  took  the  death  very  calmly. 
Peter  asked  them  a  few  questions,  and  found  that  there 
were  three  other  children,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  an 
errand  boy,  and  therefore  away.  The  others,  twin  babies, 
had  been  cared  for  by  a  woman  on  the  next  floor.  He 
asked  about  money,  and  found  that  they  had  not  enough 
to  pay  the  whole  expenses  of  the  double  funeral. 

"  But  the  undertaker  says  he'll  do  it  handsome,  and  will 
let  the  part  I  haven't  money  for,  run,  me  paying  it  off  in 
weekly  payments,"  the  man  explained,  when  Peter  ex* 


54  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

pressed  some  surprise  at  the  evident  needless  expense 
they  were  entailing  on  themselves. 

While  he  talked,  the  doctor  came  in. 

"I  knew  there  was  no  chance,"  he  said,  when  told  of 
the  death.  "And  you  remember  I  said  so,"  he  added, 
appealing  to  the  parents. 

"Yes,  that's  what  he  said/'  responded  the  father. 

"Well, "said  the  doctor,  speaking  in  a  brisk,  lively  way 
peculiar  to  him,  "  I've  found  what  the  matter  was." 

"  No?  "  said  the  mother,  becoming  interested  at  once. 

"It  was  the  milk,"  the  doctor  continued.  "  I  thought 
there  was  something  wrong  with  it,  the  moment  I  smelt 
it,  but  I  took  some  home  to  make  sure."  He  pulled  a 
paper  out  of  his  pocket.  ' '  That's  the  test,  and  Dr.  Plumb, 
who  has  two  cases  next  door,  found  it  was  just  the  same 
there." 

The  Blacketts  gazed  at  the  written  analysis,  with 
wonder,  not  understanding  a  word  of  it.  Peter  looked 
too,  when  they  had  satisfied  their  curiosity.  As  he  read 
it,  a  curious  expression  came  into  his  face.  A  look  not 
unlike  that  which  his  face  had  worn  on  the  deck  of  the 
"  Sunrise."  It  could  hardly  be  called  a  change  of  expres- 
sion, but  rather  a  strengthening  and  deepening  of  his 
ordinary  look. 

"That  was  in  the  milk  drunk  by  the  children?"  he 
asked,  placing  his  finger  on  a  particular  line. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  The  milk  was  bad  to  start 
with,  and  was  drugged  to  conceal  the  fact.  These  car- 
bonates sometimes  work  very  unevenly,  and  I  presume 
this  particular  can  of  milk  got  more  than  its  share  of  the 
doctoring. 

"There  are  almost  no  glycerides,"  remarked  Peter, 
wishing  to  hold  the  doctor  till  he  should  have  had  time  to 
think. 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor.      "  It  was  skim  milk." 

"You  will  report  it  to  the  Health  Board?"  asked  Peter. 

"When  I'm  up  there,"  said  the  doctor.  "Not  that  it 
will  do  any  good.  But  the  law  requires  it." 

* '  Won't  they  investigate  ?  " 

"They'll  investigate  too  much.  The  trouble  with  them 
is,  they  investigate,  but  don't  prosecute." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  He  shook  hands  with  the 
parents,  and  went  upstairs  to  the  fourth  floor.  The  crape 


HIS  FIRST  CLIENT. 


55 


on  a  door  guided  him  to  where  Bridget  Milligan  lay. 
Here  preparations  had  gone  farther.  Not  merely  were 
the  candles  burning,  but  four  bottles,  with  the  corks 
partly  drawn,  were  on  the  cold  cooking  stove,  while  a 
wooden  pail  filled  with  beer,  reposed  in  the  embrace  of  a 
wash-tub,  filled  otherwise  with  ice.  Peter  asked  a  few 
questions.  There  was  only  an  elder  brother  and  sister. 
Patrick  worked  as  a  porter.  Ellen  rolled  cigars.  They 
had  a  little  money  laid  up.  Enough  to  pay  for  the 
funeral.  "Mr.  Moriarty  gave  us  the  whisky  and  beer 
at  half  price,"  the  girl  explained  incidentally.  " Thank 
you,  sir.  We  don't  need  anything."  Peter  rose  to  go, 
"Bridget  was  often  speaking  of  you  to  us.  And  I  thank 
you  for  what  you  did  for  her." 

Peter  went  down,  and  called  next  door,  to  see  Dr. 
Plumb's  patients.  These  were  in  a  fair  way  for  recovery. 
"They  didn't  get  any  of  the  milk  till  last  night/' the 
gray-haired,  rather  sad-looking  doctor  told  him,  "and  I 
got  at  them  early  this  morning.  Then  I  suspected  the 
milk  at  once,  and  treated  them  accordingly.  I've  been 
forty  years  doing  this  sort  of  thing,  and  it's  generally  the 
milk.  Dr.  Sawyer,  next  door,  is  a  new  man,  and  doesn't 
get  hold  quite  as  quick.  But  he  knows  more  of  the 
science  of  the  thing,  and  can  make  a  good  analysis." 

"You  think  they  have  a  chance  ?  " 

"If  this  heat  will  let  up  a  bit  " said  the  doctor,  mopping 
his  forehead.  "It's  ninety-eight  in  here;  that's  enough  to 
kill  a  sound  child. " 

"Could  they  be  moved?" 

' '  To-morrow,  perhaps. " 

"  Mrs.  Dooley,  could  you  take  your  children  away  to 
the  country  to-morrow,  if  I  find  a  place  for  you  ?  " 

"It's  very  little  money  I  have,  sir." 

"It  won't  cost  you  anything.  Can  you  leave  your 
family?" 

"There's  only  Moike.  And  he'll  do  very  well  by  him- 
self," he  was  told. 

"Then  if  the  children  can  go,  be  ready  at  10:15  to- 
morrow, and  you  shall  all  go  up  for  a  couple  of  weeks 
to  my  mother's  in  Massachusetts.  They'll  have  plenty  of 
good  food  there,"  he  explained  to  the  doctor,  "grass  and 
flowers  close  to  the  house  and  woods  not  far  away." 
>  "That  will  fix  them,"  said  the  doctor. 


56  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"About  this  milk.  Won't  the  Health  Board  puniah  the 
sellers  ?  "  Peter  asked. 

" Probably  not,"  he  was  told.  "It's  difficult  to  get 
them  to  do  anything,  and  at  this  season  so  many  of  them 
are  on  vacations,  it  is  doubly  hard  to  make  them  stir." 

Peter  went  to  the  nearest  telegraph,  and  sent  a  dispatch 
to  his  mother.  Then  he  went  back  to  his  office,  and 
sitting  down,  began  to  study  his  wall.  But  he  was  not 
thinking  of  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes.  He  was  thinking 
of  his  first  case.  He  had  found  a  client. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 
THE  CASE. 

PETER  went  to  work  the  next  morning  at  an  hour 
which  most  of  us,  if  we  are  indiscreet  enough  to  wake, 
prefer  to  use  as  the  preface  to  a  further  two  to  four  hours' 
nap.  He  had  spent  his  evening  in  a  freshening  of  his 
knowledge  in  certain  municipal  laws,  and  other  details 
which  he  thought  he  might  need,  and  as  early  as  five 
o'clock  he  was  at  work  in  the  tenement  district,  asking 
questions  and  taking  notes.  The  inquiry  took  little  skill. 
The  milk  had  come  from  the  cart  of  a  certain  company, 
which  passed  daily  through  the  locality,  not  to  supply 
orders,  but  to  peddle  milk  to  whoever  cared  to  buy. 
Peter  had  the  cart  pointed  out  that  morning,  but,  beyond 
making  a  note  of  the  exact  name  of  the  company,  he  paid 
no  attention  to  it.  He  was  aiming  at  bigger  game  than  a 
milk  cart  or  its  driver. 

His  work  was  interrupted  only  by  his  taking  Mrs. 
Dooley  and  the  two  children  to  the  train.  That  done, 
Peter  walked  'northwardly  and  westwardly,  till  he  had 
nearly  reached  the  river  front.  It  took  some  little 
inquiry,  but  after  a  while  he  stumbled  on  a  small  shanty 
which  had  a  sign  : 

NATIONAL  MILK  COMPANY. 

OFFICE. 

The  place,  however,  was  closed  and  no  one  around 
seemed  connected  with  it,  though  a  number  of  milk  carts 


THE  CASE.  57 

were  standing  about.  Close  to  these  was  a  long  line  of 
sheds,  which  in  turn  backed  up  against  a  great  brewery. 
A  couple  of  men  lounged  at  the  door  of  the  sheds. 
Peter  walked  up  to  them,  and  asked  if  they  could  tell 
him  where  he  could  find  any  one  connected  with  the 
milk  company. 

"  The  boss  is  off  for  lunch,"  said  one.  "  I  can  take  an 
order,  if  that's  what  you  want. " 

Peter  said  it  was  not  an  order,  and  began  chatting  with 
the  men.  Before  he  had  started  to  question  them,  a  third 
man,  from  inside  the  sheds,  joined  the  group  at  the  door. 

"That  cow's  dead,"  he  remarked  as  he  came  up. 

"Is  it?"  said  the  one  called  Bill.  Both  rose,  and 
went  into  the  shed.  Peter  started  to  go  with  them. 

"You  can't  come  in,"  said  the  new-comer. 

But  Peter  passed  in,  without  paying  the  least  attention 
to  him. 

"Come  back,"  called  the  man,  following  Peter. 

Peter  turned  to  him  :  "  You  are  one  of  the  employees 
of  the  National  Milk  Company  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  man,  "  and  we  have  orders " 

Peter  usually  let  a  little  pause  occur  after  a  remark  to 
him,  but  in  this  case  he  spoke  before  the  man  completed 
his  speech.  He  spoke,  too,  with  an  air  of  decision  and 
command  that  quieted  the  man. 

"  Go  back  to  your  work,"  he  said,  "and  don't  order 
me  round.  I  know  what  I'm  about."  Then  he  walked 
after  the  other  two  men  as  rapidly  as  the  dimness  per- 
mitted. The  employee  scratched  his  head,  and  then 
followed. 

Dim  as  the  light  was,  Peter  could  discern  that  he  was 
passing  between  two  rows  of  cows,  with  not  more  than 
space  enough  for  men  to  pass  each  other  between  the 
rows.  It  was  filthy,  and  very  warm,  and  there  was  a 
peculiar  smell  in  the  air  which  Peter  did  not  associate 
with  a  cow  stable.  It  was  a  kind  of  vapor  which  brought 
some  suggestion  to  his  mind,  yet  one  he  could  not  iden- 
tify. Presently  he  came  upon  the  two  men.  One  hacj 
lighted  a  lantern  and  was  examining  a  cow  that  lay  on 
the  ground.  That  it  was  dead  was  plain.  But  what 
most  interested  Peter,  although  he  felt  a  shudder  of  horror 
at  the  sight,  were  the  rotted  tail  and  two  great  sores  on 
the  flank  that  lay  uppermost 


58  HE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"That's  a  bad-looking  cow,"  he  said. 

' '  Ain't  it  ? "  replied  the  one  with  the  lantern.  ' '  But  you 
can't  help  their  havin'  them,  if  you  feed  them  on  mash. " 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Bill,"  said  the  man  who  had  fol- 
lowed Peter. 

"Take  some  of  your  own  advice,"  said  Peter,  turning 
quickly,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  that  made  the  man 
step  back.  A  terrible  feeling  was  welling  up  in  Peter's 
heart.  He  thought  of  the  poor  little  fever-stricken 
children.  He  saw  the  poor  fever-stricken  cow  He 
would  like  to — to . 

He  dropped  the  arm  he  had  unconsciously  raised. 
"Give  me  that  lantern,"  he  demanded. 

The  man  hesitated  and  looked  at  the  others. 

"Give  me  that  lantern,"  said  Peter,  speaking  low,  but 
his  voice  ringing  very  clear. 

The  lantern  was  passed  to  him,  and  taking  it,  he  walked 
along  the  line  of  cows.  He  saw  several  with  sores  more 
or  less  developed.  One  or  two  he  saw  in  the  advanced 
stages  of  the  disease,  where  the  tail  had  begun  to  rot 
away.  The  other  men  followed  him  on  his  tour  of  inspec- 
tion, and  whispered  together  nervously.  It  did  not  take 
Peter  long  to  examine  all  he  wanted  to  see.  Handing  back 
the  lantern  at  the  door,  he  said  :  "Give  me  your  names." 

The  men  looked  nonplussed,  a&id  shifted  their  weights 
uneasily  from  leg  to  leg. 

"You,"  said  Peter,  looking  at  the  man  who  had  inter- 
fered with  him. 

"  Wot  do  yer  want  with  it? "  he  was  asked. 

"That's  my  business.     What's  your  name?" 

"JohnTirhgley." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"310  West  6i»t  Street." 

Peter  obtained  and  wrote  down  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses of  the  trio.  He  then  went  to  the  "  office  "  of  the 
company,  which  was  now  opened. 

"Is  this  an  incorporated  company  ?  "  he  asked  of  the 
man  tilted  back  in  a  chair. 

"No,"  said  the  man,  adding  two  chair  legs  to. terra 
firma,  and  looking  at  Peter  suspiciously, 

"Who  owns  it?  "  Peter  queried, 

"I'm  the  boss." 

"That  isn't  what  I  asked. " 


THE  CASE. 


59 


"That's  what  I  answered." 
'  And  your  name  is  ?  " 
'James  Goldman." 

'Do  you  intend  to  answer  my  question  ?  " 
'Not  till  I  know  your  business. 

'  I'm  here  to  find  out  against  whom  to  get  warrants  for 
a  criminal  prosecution." 
'For  what?" 
'The  warrant  will  say." 

The  man  squirmed  in  his  chair.  "Will  you  give  me 
till  to-morrow  ? " 

"No.  The  warrant  is  to  be  issued  to-day.  Decide 
at  once,  whether  you  or  your  principal,  shall  be  the  man 
to  whom  it  shall  be  served." 

"I  guess  you'd  better  make  it  against  me,"  said  the  man. 

"Very  well,"  said  Peter.      "  Of  course  you  know  your 

employer  will  be  run  down,  and  as  I'm  not  after  the  rest 

of  you,  you  will  only  get  him  a  few  days'  safety  at  the 

price  of  a  term  in  prison." 

"Well,  I've  got  to  risk  it,"  said  the  man. 
Peter  turned  and  walked  away.     He  went  down  town 
to  the  Blacketts. 

"I  want  you  to  carry  the  matter  to  the  courts,"  he  told 
the  father.  "These  men  deserve  punishment,  and  if  you'll 
let  me  go  on  with  it,  it  shan't  cost  you  anything ;  and  by 
bringing  a  civil  suit  as  well,  you'll  probably  get  some 
money  out  of  it." 

Blackett  gave  his  assent.  So  too  did  Patrick  Milligan, 
and  "  Moike  "  Dooley.  They  had  won  fame  already  by 
the  deaths  and  wakes,  but  a  "  coort  case"  promised 
to  give  them  prestige  far  beyond  what  even  these  dis- 
tinctions conferred.  So  the  three  walked  away  proudly 
with  Peter,  and  warrants  were  sworn  to  and  issued  against 
the  "boss  "  as  principal,  and  the  driver  and  the  three  others 
as  witnesses,  made  returnable  on  the  following  morning. 
On  many  a  doorstep  of  the  district,  that  night,  nothing 
else  was  talked  of,  and  the  trio  were  the  most  envied  men 
in  the  neighborhood.  Even  Mrs.  '  Blackett  and  Ellen 
Milligan  forgot  their  grief,  and  held  a  joint  soiree  on  their 
front  stoop. 

"Shure,  it's  mighty  hard  for  Mrs.  Dooley,  that  she'd 
away  !  "  said  one.  "  She'll  be  feeling  bad  when  she  knows 
what  she's  missed." 


60  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

The  next  morning,  Peter,  the  two  doctors,  the  Blacketts, 
the  Milligans,  Dooley,  the  milk  quintet,  and  as  many 
inhabitants  of  the  "  district  "  as  could  crush  their  way  in, 
were  in  court  by  nine  o'clock.  The  plaintiffs  and  their 
friends  were  rather  disappointed  at  the  quietness  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. The  examinations  were  purely  formal  except  in 
one  instance,  when  Peter  asked  for  the  "  name  or  names 
of  the  owner  or  owners  "  of  the  National  Milk  Company. 
Here  the  defendant's  attorney,  a  shrewd  criminal  lawyer, 
interfered,  and  there  was  a  sharp  passage  at  arms,  in 
which  an  attempt  was  made  to  anger  Peter.  But  he  kept 
his  head,  and  in  the  end  carried  his  point.  The  owner 
turned  out  to  be  the  proprietor  of  the  brewery,  as  Peter 
had  surmised,  who  thus  utilized  the  mash  from  his  vats  in 
feeding  cattle.  But  on  Peter's  asking  for  an  additional 
warrant  against  him,  the  defendant's  lawyer  succeeded  in 
proving,  if  the  statement  of  the  overseer  proved  it,  that 
the  brewer  was  quite  ignorant  that  the  milk  sold  in  the 
"  district "  was  what  had  been  unsalable  the  day  before  to 
better  customers,  and  that  the  skimming  and  doctoring 
of  it  was  unknown  to  him.  So  an  attempt  to  punish  the 
rich  man  as  a  criminal  was  futile.  He  could  afford  to  pay 
for  straw  men. 

"  Arrah !  "  said  Dooley  to  Peter  as  they  passed  out  of  the 
court,  "Oi  think  ye  moight  have  given  them  a  bit  av 
yer  moind." 

"Wait  till  the  trial,"  said  Peter.  " We  mustn't  use  up 
our  powder  on  the  skirmish  line." 

So  the  word  was  passed  through  the  district  that  "  theer'd 
be  fun  at  the  rale  trial,"  and  it  was  awaited  with  intense 
interest  by  five  thousand  people. 


[CHAPTER  XIV. 
NEW  YORK  JUSTICE. 

PETER  saw  the  District  Attorney  the  next  morning  for  a 
few  moments,  and  handed  over  to  him  certain  memoranda 
of  details  that  had  not  appeared  in  the  committing  court's 
record. 

"  It  shall  go  before  the  grand  jury  day  after  to-morrow,* 


NEW  YORK  JUSTICE.  6l 

that  official  told   him,  without  much  apparent  interest  in 
the  matter.  „ 

"How  soon  can  it  be  tried,  if  they  find  a  true  bill? 
asked  Peter. 

"Can't  say,"  replied  the  official. 

"I  merely  wished  to  know/'  said  Peter,  "  because  three 
of  the  witnesses  are  away,  and  I  want  to  have  them  back 
in  time." 

"Probably  a  couple  of  weeks,"  yawned  the  man,  and 
Peter,  taking  the  hint,  departed. 

The  rest  of  the  morning-  was  spent  in  drawing  up  the 
papers  in  three  civil  suits  against  the  rich  brewer.  Peter 
filed  them  as  soon  as  completed,  and  took  the  necessary 
steps  for  their  prompt  service. 

These  produced  an  almost  immediate  result,  in  the  shape 
of  a  call  the  next  morning1  from  the  same  lawyer  who  had 
defended  the  milkmen  in  the  preliminary  examination. 
Peter,  as  he  returned  from  his  midday  meal,  met  the  lawyer 
on  the  stairs. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Stirling.  Good-morning, "  said  the  man,  whose 
name  was  Dummer.  "  I've  just  left  your  office,  finding  it 
closed." 

"Come  in, "said  Peter. 

The  lawyer  glanced  around  the  plain  room,  and  a  quiet 
look  of  satisfaction  came  over  his  face.  The  two  sat 
down. 

"About  those  cases,  Mr.  Stirling?" 

"Well?" 

"For  reasons  you  can  easily  understand,  we  don't  wish 
them  to  come  to  trial." 

"Well?" 

"And  we  take  it  for  granted  that  your  clients  will  be 
quite  willing  to  settle  them." 

"We  will  talk  about  that,  after  the  criminal  trial  is 
over  " 

"Why  not  now?" 

"Because we  hope  to  make  Coldman  speak  the  truth  in 
the  trial,  and  thus  be  able  to  reach  Bohlmann." 

"You're  wasting  your  time." 

"  Not  if  there's  the  smallest  chance  of  sending  the  brewer 
to  prison. " 

"There  isn't.  Coldman  will  stick  to  what  he  said  if  the 
thing  is  ever  tried,  which  it  won't  be." 


62  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Peter  eyed  Dummer  without  changing  a  muscle.  "  The 
District  Attorney  told  me  that  it  ought  to  be  in  the  courts 
in  a  couple  of  weeks." 

Dummer  smiled  blandly,  and  slowly  closed  one  eye. 
"The  District  Attorney  tries  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  thought  that  was  what  he  was 
telling  you.  Now,  name  your  figure?  " 

"The  civil  suits  will  not  be  compromised  till  the  crim- 
inal one  is  finished." 

"But  I  tell  you  the  criminal  one  is  dead.  Squashed. 
Bohlmann  and  I  have  seen  the  right  people,  and  they've 
seen  the  District  Attorney.  That  case  won't  even  go  to 
the  grand  jury.  So  now,  drop  it,  and  say  what  you'll 
settle  the  civil  suits  for?  " 

"  James  Goldman  shall  go  to  prison  for  killing  those 
children,"  said  Peter,  "and  till  he  does,  it  is  waste  time 
to  talk  of  dropping  or  settling  anything." 

"  Humph,"  half  laughed  the  lawyer,  though  with  ob- 
yious  disgust  at  the  mulishness  in  Peter's  face  and  voice. 
"You  think  you  know  it  all.  But  you  don't  You  can 
work  for  ten  years,  and  that  case  will  be  no  nearer  trial 
than  it  is  to-day.  I  tell  you,  young  man,  you  don't  know 
New  York." 

"I  don't  know  New  York,"  said  Peter,  "but " 

"  Exactly,"  interrupted  Dummer.      "  And  1  do." 

"Probably,"  replied  Peter  quietly.  "You  may  know 
New  York,  Mr.  Dummer,  but  you  don't  know  me.  That 
case  shall  be  tried." 

"Well,"  laughed  Dummer,  "  if  you'll  agree  not  to  press 
the  civil  suits,  till  that's  out  of  the  way,  we  shall  have  no 
need  to  compromise.  Good-day." 

The  next  morning  Peter  went  to  the  District  Attorney's 
office,  and  inquired  for  him. 

"  He's  gone  to  Bar  Harbor  for  a  couple  of  weeks'  vaca- 
tion," he  was  told. 

"  Whom  must  I  see  in  his  stead  ?  "  And  after  some  time 
Peter  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  acting  official. 

"  Mr.  Nelson  told  me  he  should  present  the  Goldman  case 
to  the  grand  jury  to-day,  and  finding  he  has  left  the  city, 
I  wish  to  know  who  has  it  in  charge  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"  He  left  all  the  presentments  with  me,"  the  deputy  re- 
plied, "  but  there  was  no  such  case  as  that." 


NEW  YORK  JUSTICE.  63 

"Could  he  have  left  it  with  some  one  else  to  attend 
to  ?  " 

"No." 

Peter  went  back  to  his  office,  took  down  the  Code 
and  went  over  certain  sections.  His  eyes  had  rather  a 
sad  look  as  they  gazed  at  his  wall,  after  his  study,  as  if 
what  he  had  read  had  not  pleased  him.  But  if  the  eyes 
were  sad,  the  heavy  jaw  had  a  rigidness  and  setness 
which  gave  no  indication  of  weakness  or  yielding. 

For  two  weeks  Peter  waited,  and  then  once  more  in- 
vaded officialdom. 

"The  District  Attorney's  engaged,  and  can't  see  you/* 
he  was  told.  Peter  came  again  in  the  afternoon,  with  the 
same  result.  The  next  morning,  brought  only  a  like 
answer,  and  this  was  duplicated  in  the  afternoon.  The 
third  day  he  said  he  would  wait,  and  sat  for  hours  in  the 
ante-room,  hoping  to  be  called,  or  to  intercept  the  officer. 
But  it  was  only  to  see  man  after  man  ushered  into  the 
private  office,  and  finally  to  be  told  that  the  District 
Attorney  had  gone  to  lunch,  and  would  not  return  that 
day.  The  man  who  told  him  this  grinned,  and  evidently 
considered  it  a  good  joke,  nor  had  Peter  been  unconscious 
that  all  the  morning  the  clerks  and  underlings  had  been 
laughing,  and  guying  him  as  he  waited.  Yet  his  jaw  was 
only  set  the  more  rigidly,  as  he  left  the  office. 

He  looked  up  the  private  address  of  the  officer  in  the 
directory,  and  went  to  see  him  that  evening.  He  was 
wise  enough  not  to  send  in  his  name,  and  Mr.  Nelson 
actually  came  into  the  hall  to  see  him. 

The  moment  he  saw  Peter,  however,  he  said:  "Oh, 
it's  you.  Well,  I  never  talk  business  except  in  business 
hours." 

"I  have  tried  to  see  you "  began  Peter. 

"Try  some  more/'  interrupted  the  man,  smiling,  and 
going  toward  the  parlor. 

Peter  followed  him,  calmly.  "Mr.  Nelson/'  he  said, 
"  do  you  intend  to  push  that  case  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  smiled  Nelson.  "After  I've  finished 
four  hundred  indictments  that  precede  it." 

"  Not  till  then  ?" 

"No." 

"Mr.  Nelson,  can't  you  overlook  politics  for  a  moment, 
and  think  of " 


64  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Who  said  anything  of  politics  ?"  interrupted  Nelson. 
*'  I  merely  tell  you  there  are  indictments  which  have  been 
in  my  office  for  five  years  and  are  yet  to  be  tried,  and 
that  your  case  is  going  to  take  its  turn."  Nelson  passed 
into  the  back  room,  leaving  his  caller  alone. 

Peter  left  the  room,  and  passed  out  of  the  front  door, 
just  as  a  man  was  about  to  ring  the  bell. 

"  Is  Mr.  Nelson  in  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  I  have  just  left  him,  Mr.  Dummer,"  said  Peter. 

"  Ah  !  Good-evening,  Mr.  Stirling.  I  think  I  can 
guess  your  business.  Well.  How  do  you  come  on  ?  " 
Dummer  was  obviously  laughing  internally. 

Peter  started  down  the  steps  without  answering. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help  you?  "  said  Dummer.  "  I  know 
Mr.  Nelson  very  well  in  politics,  and  so  does  Mr.  Bohl- 
mann.  If  you'll  tell  me  what  you  are  after,  I'll  try  to  say 
a  good  word  for  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  need  your  help,  thank  you,"  said  Peter 
calmly. 

"  Good,"  said  Dummer.  "  You  think  a  briefless  law- 
yer of  thirty  can  go  it  alone,  do  you,  even  against  the 
whole  city  government  ?  " 

"  I  know  I  have  not  influence  enough  to  get  that  case 
pushed,  Mr.  Dummer,  but  the  law  is  on  my  side,  and 
I'm  not  going  to  give  up  yet." 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  said 
Dummer,  sneeringly. 

"  Fight,"  said  Peter,  walking  away. 

He  went  back  to  his  office,  and  sitting  at  his  desk, 
wrote  a  formal  letter  to  the  District  Attorney,  calling  his 
attention  to  the  case,  and  asking  information  as  to  when 
it  would  be  brought  to  trial.  Then  he  copied  this,  and 
mailed  the  original.  Then  he  read  the  Code  again. 
After  that  he  went  over  the  New  York  reports,  making 
notes.  For  a  second  time  the  morning  sun  found  Peter 
still  at  his  desk.  But  this  time  his  head  was  not  bowed 
upon  his  blotter,  as  if  he  were  beaten  or  dead.  His  whole 
figure  was  stiff  with  purpose,  and  his  jaw  was  as  rigid,  as 
a  mastiffs* 


F1GI1T.  65 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE   FIGHT. 

THE  only  reply  which  Peter  received  to  his  letter  to 
the  District- Attorney,  was  a  mere  formal  reiteration  of 
that  officer's  verbal  statement,  that  the  case  would  be 
taken  up  in  its  due  order,  after  those  which  preceded  it  had 
been  dealt  with.  Peter  knew  enough  of  the  numberless 
cases  which  never  reach  trial  to  understand  that  this 
meant  in  truth,  the  laying  aside  of  the  case,  till  it  was 
killed  by  the  statute  of  limitations. 

On  receiving  this  reply,  Peter  made  another  move,  by 
going  to  three  newspapers,  and  trying  to  see  their  manag- 
ing editors.  One  declined  to  see  him.  A  second  merely 
told  Peter,  after  his  statement,  which  the  editor  only 
allowed  him  partly  to  explain,  that  he  was  very  busy  and 
could  not  take  time  to  look  into  it,  but  that  Peter  might 
come  again  in  about  a  month.  The  third  let  Peter  tell 
his  story,  and  then  shook  his  head : 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right,  but  it  isn't  in  shape 
for  us  to  use.  Such  a  case  rarely  goes  to  trial  for  six 
months  or  a  year,  and  so,  if  we  begin  an  attack  now,  it 
will  simply  fall  flat.  If  you  can  get  us  a  written  state- 
ment from  the  District  Attorney  that  he  doesn't  intend  to 
push  the  case,  we  can  do  something,  but  I  suppose  he's 
far  too  shrewd  to  commit  himself." 

'  'Yes." 

"Then  there's  no  use  in  beginning  an  attack,  for  you 
really  have  no  powder.  Come  in  again  a  year  from  now, 
and  then  we  may  be  able  to  say  something,  if  he  hasn't 
acted  in  the  meantime. " 

Peter  left  the  office,  knowing  that  that  chance  of  press- 
ure was  gone.  If  the  papers  of  the  Republican  party 
would  not  use  it,  it  was  idle  spending  time  in  seeing  or 
trying  to  see  the  editors  of  the  Democratic  papers.  He 
wasted  therefore  no  more  efforts  on  newspapers. 

The  next  three  days  Peter  passed  in  the  New  York  Law 
Institute  Library,  deep  in  many  books.  Then  he  packed 


66  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

his  bag1,  and  took  an  afternoon  train  for  Albany.  He 
was  going  to  play  his  last  card,  with  the  odds  of  a  thou- 
sand to  one  against  his  winning.  But  that  very  fact  only 
nerved  him  the  more. 

Promptly  at  ten  o'clock,  the  morning  after  his  arrival  at 
the  state  capital,  he  sent  in  his  card  to  the  Governor. 
Fortunately  for  him,  the  middle  of  August  is  not  a  busy 
time  with  that  official,  and  after  a  slight  delay,  he  was 
ushered  into  the  executive  chamber. 

Peter  had  been  planning  this  interview  for  hours,  and 
without  explanation  or  preamble,  he  commenced  his 
statement.  He  knew  that  he  must  interest  the  Governor 
promptly,  or  there  would  be  a  good  chance  of  his  being 
bowed  out.  So  he  began  with  a  description  of  the  cow- 
stables.  Then  he  passed  to  the  death  of  the  little  child. 
He  sketched  both  rapidly,  not  taking  three  minutes  to  do 
it,  but  had  he  been  pleading  for  his  own  life,  he  could  not 
have  spoken  more  earnestly  nor  feelingly. 

The  Governor  first  looked  surprised  at  Peter's  abrupt- 
ness ;  then  weary  ;  then  interested  ;  and  finally  turned 
his  revolving  chair  so  as  to  put  his  back  to  Peter.  And 
after  Peter  had  ended  his  account,  he  remained  so  for 
a  moment.  That  back  was  very  expressive  to  Peter.  For 
the  first  time  he  felt  vanquished. 

But  suddenly  the  Governor  turned,  and  Peter  saw  tears 
on  his  cheek.  And  he  said,  after  a  big  swallow,  "  What 
do  you  want  of  me  ? "  in  a  voice  that  meant  everything 
to  Peter. 

"  Will  you  listen  to  me  for  five  minutes  ?  "  asked  Peter, 
eagerly. 

-Yes." 

Then  Peter  read  aloud  a  statement  of  the  legal  pro- 
ceedings, and  of  his  interviews  with  the  District  Attorney 
and  with  Dummer,  in  the  clearest  and  most  compact 
sentences  he  had  been  able  to  frame. 

"  You  want  me  to  interfere? "asked  the  Governor. 

"Yes." 

' '  I'm  afraid  it's  not  possible.  I  can  of  course  remove 
the  District  Attorney,  but  it  must  be  for  cause,  and  I  do 
not  see  that  you  can  absolutely  prove  his  non  intention 
to  prosecute  those  scoundrels." 

"That  is  true.  After  study,  I  did  not  see  that  you 
Could  remove  him.  But  there's  another  remedy." 


THE  FIGHT.  67 

"What  is  that?" 

"  Through  the  State  Attorney  you  can  appoint  a  special 
counsel  for  this  case." 

"Are  you  sure? " 

Peter  laid  one  of  the  papers  in  his  hands  before  the 
Governor.  After  reading  it,  the  Governor  rang  a  bell. 

"Send  for  Mr.  Miller/'  he  said  to  the  boy.  Then  he 
turned,  and  with  Peter  went  over  the  court  papers,  till 
Mr.  Miller  put  in  an  appearance. 

"State  the  matter  to  Mr.  Miller,"  said  the  Governor, 
and  Peter  read  his  paper  again  and  -told  what  he  wished. 

"The  power  unquestionably  exists,"  said  the  Attorney 
General.  "But  it  has  not  been  used  in  many  years.  Per 
haps  I  had  better  look  into  it  a  bit." 

"Go  with  Mr.  Miller,  Mr.  Stirling,  and  work  over  your 
papers  with  him,"  said  the  Governor. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter  simply,  but  his  hand  and  face 
and  voice  said  far  more,  as  he  shook  hands.  He  went 
out  with  the  first  look  of  hope  his  face  had  worn  for  two 
years. 

The  ground  which  the  Attorney-General  and  his  subordi- 
nates had  to  traverse  was  that  over  which  Peter  had  so 
well  travelled  already,  that  he  felt  very  much  at  home, 
while  his  notes  indeed  aided  the  study,  and  were  doubly 
welcomed,  because  the  summer  season  had  drained  the 
office  of  its  underlings.  Half  as  assistant,  and  half  as 
principal,  he  worked  till  three  o'clock,  with  pleasure  that 
grew,  as  he  saw  that  the  opinion  of  the  Attorney-General 
seemed  to  agree  more  and  more  with  his  own.  Then 
they  returned  to  the  Governor,  to  whom  the  Attorney- 
General  gave  his  opinion  that  his  present  conclusion 
was  that  the  Governor  could  empower  him,  or  some 
appointee,  to  prosecute  the  case. 

"Well,"  said  the  Governor,  "I'm  glad  you  think  so. 
But  if  we  find  that  it  isn't  possible,  Mr.  Stirling,  I'll  have 
a  letter  written  to  the  District  Attorney  that  may  scare 
him  into  proceeding  with  the  case." 

Peter  thanked  him,  and  rose  to  go. 

"Are  you  going  to  New  York  at  once?"  asked  the 
Governor. 

"  Yes.     Unless  I  can  be  of  use  here." 

"  Suppose  you  dine  with  me,  and  take  a  late  train  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure,"  said  Peter. 


6S  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Very  well.  Six  sharp."  Then  after  Peter  had  left  the 
room,  the  Governor  asked,  "How  is  he  on  law?" 

"Very  good.     Clear-headed  and  balanced." 

"He  knows  how  to  talk,"  said  the  Governor.  "He 
brought  my  heart  up  in  my  mouth  as  no  one  has  done  in 
years.  Now,  I  must  get  word  to  some  of  the  people  in 
New  York  to  find  out  who  he  is,  and  if  this  case  has  any 
concealed  boomerang  in  it." 

The  dinner  was  a  very  quiet  one  with  only  the  Gover- 
nor and  his  wife.  The  former  must  have  told  his  better- 
half  something  about  Peter,  for  she  studied  him  with  a 
very  kind  look  in  her  face,  and  prosaic  and  silent  as 
Peter  was,  she  did  not  seem  bored.  After  the  dinner  was 
eaten,  and  some  one  called  to  talk  politics  with  the  Gover- 
nor, she  took  Peter  off  to  another  room,  and  made  him 
tell  her  about  the  whole  case,  and  how  he  came  to  take  it 
up,  and  why  he  had  come  to  the  Governor  for  help.  She 
cried  over  it,  and  after  Peter  had  gone,  she  went  upstairs 
and  looked  at  her  own  two  sleeping  boys,  quite  large 
enough  to  fight  the  world  on  their  own  account,  but  still 
little  children  to  the  mother's  heart,  and  had  another 
cry  over  them.  She  went  downstairs  later  to  the  Gover- 
nor's study,  and  interrupting  him  in  the  work  to  which  he 
had  settled  down,  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissed 
him.  "You  must  help  him,  William,"  she  said.  "Do 
everything  you  can  to  have  those  scoundrels  punished,  and 
let  him  do  it." 

The  Governor  only  laughed  ;  but  he  pushed  back  his 
work,  and  his  wife  sat  down,  and  told  of  her  admiration 
and  sympathy  for  Peter's  fight.  There  was  a  bad  time 
ahead  for  the  criminal  and  his  backers.  They  might 
have  political  influence  of  the  strongest  character,  fighting 
their  battle,  but  there  was  a  bigger  and  more  secret  one 
at  work.  Say  what  we  please,  the  strongest  and  most 
subtle  "  pull  "  this  world  as  yet  contains  is  the  under- 
current of  a  woman's  influence. 

Peter  went  back  to  New  York  that  night,  feeling  hope- 
ful, yet  doubtful.  It  almost  seemed  impossible  that 
he  had  succeeded,  yet  at  twenty-three,  failure  is  hard  to 
believe  in.  So  he  waited,  hoping  to  see  some  move  on 
the  part  of  the  State,  and  dreaming  of  nothing  better. 
But  better  came»  for  only  five  days  after  his  return  his 
mail  brought  him  a  large  envelope,  and  inside  that  en- 


THE  FIGHT.  69 

velope  was  a  special  commission,  which  made  Peter  a 
deputy  of  the  Attorney-General,  to  prosecute  in  the  Court 
of  Sessions,  the  case  of  ' '  The  People  of  the  State  of  New 
York  versus  James  Goldman."  If  any  one  could  have 
seen  Peter's  face,  as  he  read  the  purely  formal  instrument, 
he  would  not  have  called  it  dull  or  heavy.  For  Peter 
knew  that  he  had  won  ;  that  in  place  of  justice  blocking 
and  hindering  him,  every  barrier  was  crushed  down  ;  that 
this  prosecution  rested  with  no  officials,  but  was  for  him 
to  push  ;  that  that  little  piece  of  parchment  bound  every 
court  to  support  him  ;  that  if  necessary  fifty  thousand 
troops  would  enforce  the  power  which  granted  it.  Within 
three  hours,  the  first  formal  steps  to  place  the  case  in 
the  courts  had  been  taken,  and  Peter  was  working  at 
the  evidence  and  law  in  the  matter. 

These  steps  produced  a  prompt  call  from  Dummer, 
who  showed  considerably  less  assurance  than  hitherto, 
even  though  he  tried  to  take  Peter's  success  jauntily. 
He  wanted  Peter  to  drop  the  whole  thing,  and  hinted 
at  large  sums  of  money,  but  Peter  at  first  did  not 
notice  his  hints,  and  finally  told  him  that  the  case  should 
be  tried.  Then  Dummer  pleaded  for  delay.  Peter  was 
equally  obdurate.  Later  they  had  a  contest  in  the 
court  over  this.  But  Peter  argued  in  a  quiet  way,  which 
nevertheless  caught  the  attention  of  the  judge,  who  ended 
the  dispute  by  refusing  to  postpone.  The  judge  hadn't 
intended  to  act  in  this  way,  and  was  rather  surprised  at 
his  own  conduct.  The  defendant's  lawyer  was  furious. 

No  stone  was  left  unturned,  however,  to  prevent  the 
case  going  to  trial.  Pressure  of  the  sharpest  and  closest 
kind  was  brought  to  bear  on  the  Governor  himself — pres- 
sure which  required  backbone  to  resist.  But  he  stood  by 
his  act :  perhaps  because  he  belonged  to  a  different  party 
than  that  in  control  of  the  city  government ;  perhaps 
because  of  Peter's  account,  and  the  truthfulness  in  his 
face  as  he  told  it ;  perhaps  because  the  Attorney-General 
had  found  it  legal ;  perhaps  because  of  his  wife  ;  perhaps 
it  was  a  blending  of  all  these.  Certain  it  is,  that  all 
attempts  to  block  failed,  and  in  the  last  week  in  August 
it  came  before  the  court. 

Peter  had  kept  his  clients  informed  as  to  his  struggles, 
and  they  were  tremendously  proud  of  the  big  battle  and 
ultimate  success,  as  indeed  were  the  residents  of  the  whold 


70  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

district,  who  felt  that  it  was  really  their  own  case.  Then 
the  politicians  were  furious  and  excited  over  it,  while  the 
almost  unexampled  act  of  the  Governor  had  created  a 
good  deal  of  public  interest  in  the  case.  So  the  court  was 
packed  and  the  press  had  reporters  in  attendance.  Since 
the  trial  was  fully  reported,  it  is  needless  to  go  over  the 
testimony  here.  What  Peter  could  bring  out,  is  already 
known.  The  defence,  by  "experts,"  endeavored  to  prove 
that  the  cowsheds  were  not  in  a  really  unhygienic  con- 
dition ;  that  feeding  cows  on  "  mash"  did  not  affect  their 
milk,  nor  did  mere  "skin  sores  ; "  that  the  milk  had  been 
sold  by  mistake,  in  ignorance  that  it  was  thirty-six  hours 
old,  and  skimmed;  and  that  the  proof  of  this  particular 
milk  being  the  cause  of  the  deaths  was  extremely  inade- 
quate and  doubtful.  The  only  dramatic  incident  in  the 
testimony  was  the  putting  the  two  little  Dooleys  (who 
had  returned  in  fat  and  rosy  condition,  the  day  before)  on 
the  stand. 

"Did  you  find  country  milk  different  from  what  you 
have  here  ?  "  Peter  asked  the  youngest. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said.  "  Here  it  comes  from  a  cart,  but 
in  the  country  it  squirts  from  a  cow." 

"Order,"  said  the  judge  to  the  gallery. 

"Does  it  taste  differently  ?  " 

"Yes.  It's  sweet,  as  if  they  put  sugar  in  it.  It's 
lovely  1  I  like  cow  milk  better  than  cart  milk." 

"Damn  those  children!"  said  Dummer,  to  the  man 
next  him. 

The  event  of  the  trial  came,  however,  when  Peter 
summed  up.  He  spoke  quietly,  in  the  simplest  language, 
using  few  adjectives  and  no  invective.  But  as  the  girl  at 
the  Pierces'  dinner  had  said,  "  he  describes  things  so  that 
one  sees  them."  He  told  of  the  fever-stricken  cows,  and 
he  told  of  the  little  fever-stricken  children  in  such  a  way 
that  the  audience  sobbed  ;  his  clients  almost  had  to  be 
ordered  out  of  court ;  the  man  next  Dummer  mopped  his 
eyes  with  his  handkerchief ;  the  judge  and  jury  thought- 
fully covered  their  eyes  (so  as  to  think  the  better);  the 
reporters  found  difficulty  (owing  to  the  glary  light),  in 
writing  the  words  despite  their  determination  not  to  miss 
one  ;  and  even  the  prisoner  wiped  his  eyes  on  his  sleeve. 
Peter  was  unconscious  that  he  was  making  a  great  speech  ; 
great  in  its  simplicity,  and  great  in  its  pathos.  He  after- 


THE  CONSEQUENCES.  71 

wards  said  he  had  not  given  it  a  moment's  thought  and  had 
merely  said  what  he  felt.  Perhaps  his  conclusion  indi- 
cated why  he  was  able  to  speak  with  the  feeling  he  did. 
For  he  said  : 

"This  is  not  merely  the  case  of  the  State  versus  James 
Goldman.  It  is  the  case  of  the  tenement-house  children, 
against  the  inhumanity  of  man's  greed." 

Dummer  whispered  to  the  man  next  him,  "There's  no 
good  He's  done  for  us."  Then  he  rose,  and  made  a 
clever  defence.  He  knew  it  was  wasting  his  time.  The 
judge  charged  against  him,  and  the  jury  gave  the  full 
verdict  :  "Man-slaughter  in  the  first  degree."  Except 
for  the  desire  for  it,  the  sentence  created  little  stir. 
Every  one  was  still  feeling  and  thinking  of  Peter's  speech. 
»  And  to  this  day  that  speech  is  talked  of  in  "  the  dis- 
trict." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 
THE  CONSEQUENCES.! 

NOR  was  it  the  district  alone  which  talked  of  the  speech. 
Perhaps  the  residents  of  it  made  their  feelings  most  mani- 
fest, for  they  organized  a  torch-light  procession  that  night, 
and  went  round  and  made  Peter  an  address  of  thanks, 
Mr.  Dennis  Moriarty  being  the  spokesman.  The  judge 
shook  hands  with  him  after  the  trial,  and  said  that  he  had 
handled  his  case  well.  The  defendant's  lawyer  told  him 
he  "knew  his  business."-  A  number  of  the  reporters 
sought  a  few  words  with  him,  and  blended  praise  with 
questions. 

The  reporters  did  far  more  than  this,  however.  It  was 
the  dull  newspaper  season,  and  the  case  had  turned  out 
to  be  a  thoroughly  "journalistic"  one.  So  they  ques- 
tioned and  interviewed  every  one  concerned,  and  after 
cleverly  winnowing  the  chaff,  which  in  this  case  meant 
the  dull,  from  the  gleanings,  most  of  them  gave  several 
columns  the  next  morning  to  the  story.  Peter's  speech 
was  printed  in  full,  and  proved  to  read  almost  as  well  as 
it  had  sounded.  The  reporters  were  told,  and  repeated 
the  tales  without  much  attempt  at  verification,  that  Peter 
had  taken  the  matter  up  without  hope  of  profit ;  had  paid 


y«  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING^ 

the  costs  out  of  his  own  pocket ;  had  refused  to  settle, 
"though  offered  nine  thousand  dollars  : "  had  " saved  the 
Dooley  children's  lives  by  sending  them  into  the  country;  " 
and  "had  paid  for  the  burials  <3f  the  little  victims."  So 
all  gave  him  a  puff,  and  two  of  the  better  sort  wrote 
.  really  fine  editorials  about  him.  At  election  time,  or  any 
other  than  a  dull  season,  the  case  would  have  had  small 
attention,  but  August  is  the  month,  to  reverse  an  old 
adage,  when  "any  news  is  good  news." 

The  press  began,  too,  a  crusade  against  the  swill-milk 
dealers,  and  the  men  who  had  allowed  all  this  to  be  pos- 
sible. "What  is  •  the  Health  Board  about,  that  poison 
for  children  can  be  sold  in  the  public  streets?"  "  Where 
is  the  District  Attorney,  that  prosecutions  for  the  public 
good  have  to  be  brought  by  public-spirited  citizens  ?  "  they** 
demanded.  Lyn^eyed  reporters  tracked  the  milk-sup- 
plies of  the  city,  and  though  the  alarm  had  been  given, 
and  many  cows  had  been  hastily  sent  to  the  country,  they 
were  able  to  show  up  certain  companies,  and  print 
details  which  were  quite  lurid  enough,  when  sufficiently 
"colored"  by  their  skilful  pens.  Most  residents  of  New 
York  can  remember  the  "swill-milk"  or  "stump-tail 
milk"  exposures  and  prosecutions  of  that  summer,  and  of 
the  reformation  brought  about  thereby  in  the  Board  of 
Health.  As  the  details  are  not  pleasant  reading,  any  one 
who  does  not  remember  is  referred  to  the  daily  press,  and, 
if  they  want  horrible  pictures,  to  Frank  Leslie's  Illustrated 
Weekly.  Except  for  the  papers,  it  is  to  be  questioned  if 
Peter's  case  would  have  resulted  in  much  more  than  the 
punishment  of  the  man  actually  convicted ;  but  by  the 
press  taking  the  matter  up,  the  moment's  indignation  was 
deepened  and  intensified  to  a  degree  which  well-nigh 
swept  every  cow-stable  off  the  island,  and  drove  the 
proper  officials  into  an  activity  leading  to  great  reforms. 

No  one  was  more  surprised  than  Peter,  at  the  sudden 
notoriety,  or  at  the  far-reaching  results.  He  collected  the 
articles,  and  sent  them  to  his  mother.  He  wrote  : 

"Don't  think  that  this  means  any  great  start.  In  truth,  I  am 
a  hundred  dollars  the  poorer  for  the  case,  and  shall  have  to  cut  off 
a  few  expenses  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  I  tell  you  this,  because  I  know 
you  will  not  think  for  a  moment  that  I  grudge  the  money,  and  you 
are  not  to  spoil  my  trifling  self-denial  by  any  offer  of  assistance. 
You  did  quite  enough  in  taking  in  those  two  little  imps.  Were  they 


THE  CONSEQUENCES.  73 

very  bad  ?  Did  they  tramp  on  your  flowers,  and  frighten  poor  old 
Russet  [Russet  was  the  cat]  out  of  his  fast  waning  lives  ?  It  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  me  to  see  them  so  plump  and  brown,  and  I  thank  you 
for  it.  Their  testimony  in  court  was  really  amusing,  though  at  the  same 
time  pathetic.  People  tell  me  that  my  speech  was  a  good  one.  What 
is  more  surprising,  they  tell  me  that  I  made  the  prisoner,  and  Mr.  Bohl- 
mann,  the  brewer,  who  sat  next  to  Dummer,  both  cry.  I  confess  I 
grieve  over  the  fact  that  I  was  not  prosecuting  Bohlmann.  He  is  the 
real  criminal,  yet  goes  scot  free.  But  the  moral  effect  is,  I  suppose,  the 
important  thing,  and  any  one  to  whom  responsibility  could  be  traced 
(and  convicted)  gives  us  that.  I  find  that  Mr.  Bohlmann  goes  to  the 
same  church  I  attend  1 " 

His  mother  was  not  surprised.  She  had  always  known 
her  Peter  was  a  hero,  and  needed  no  "York  papers"  to 
teach  her  the  fact  Still  she  read  every  line  of  the  case, 
^nd  of  the  subsequent  crusade.  She  read  Peter's  speech 
again  and  again,  stopping  to  sob  at  intervals,  and  hug- 
ging the  clipping  to  her  bosom  from  time  to  time,  as  the 
best  equivalent  for  Peter,  while  sobbing  :  "  My  boy,  my 
darling  boy."  Every  one  in  the  mill-town  knew  of  it,  and 
the  clippings  were  passed  round  among  Peter's  friends, 
beginning  with  the  clergyman  and  ending  with  his  school- 
boy companions.  They  all  wondered  why  Peter  had 
spoken  so  briefly.  "  If  I  could  talk  like  that/'  said  a  law- 
yer  to  the  proud  mother,  "  I'd  have  spoken  for  a  couple 
of  hours. "  Mrs.  Stirling  herself  wished  it  had  been  longer. 
Four  columns  of  evidence,  and  only  a  little  over  a  half 
column  of  speech  !  It  couldn't  have  taken  him  twenty 
minutes  at  the  most.  "Even  the  other  lawyer,  who  had 
nothing  to  say  but  lies,  took  over  a  column  to  his  speech, 
And  his  was  printed  close  together,  while  that  of  Peter's 
was  spread  out  (e.g.  solid  and  leaded)  making  the  differ- 
ence in  length  all  the  greater."  Mrs.  Stirling  wondered 
if  there  could  be  a  conspiracy  against  her  Peter,  on  the 
part  of  the  Metropolitan  press.  She  had  promptly  sub- 
scribed for  a  year  to  the  New  York  paper  which  glorified 
Peter  the  most,  supposing  that  from  this  time  on  his  name 
would  appear  on  the  front  page.  When  she  found  it  did 
not  and  that  it  was  not  mentioned. in  the  press  and 
Health  Board  crusade  against  the  other  "  swill-milk " 
dealers,  she  became  convinced  that  there  was  some  definite 
attempt  to  rob  Peter  of  his  due  fame.  "  Why,  Peter  began 
it  all,"  she  explained,  "and  now  the  papers  and  Health 
Board  pretend  it's  all  their  doings."  She  wrote  a  letter  to 
the  editor  of  the  paper — a  letter  which  was  passed  round 


y4  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

the  office,  and  laughed  over  not  a  little  by  the  staff.  She 
never  received  an  answer,  nor  did  the  paper  give  Peter 
the  more  attention  because  of  it. 

Two  days  after  the  trial,  Peter  had  another  call  from 
Bummer. 

"  You  handled  that  case  in  great  style,  Mr.  Stirling/'  he 
told  Peter.  "  You  know  the  ropes  as  well  as  far  older  men. 
You  got  just  the  right  evidence  out  of  your  witnesses,  and 
not  a  bit  of  superfluous  rubbish.  That's  the  mistake  most 
young  men  make.  They  bury  their  testimony  in  un- 
essential details.  I  tell  you,  those  two  children  were 
worth  all  the  rest  put  together.  Did  you  send  them  to 
the  country  on  purpose  to  get  that  kind  of  evidence  ?  " 

"  No,  "said  Peter. 

"Well,  every  man  in  that  jury  was  probably  a  father, 
and  that  child's  talk  took  right  hold  of  them.  Not  but  that 
your  speech  would  have  done  the  business.  You  were 
mighty  clever  in  just  telling  what  you  saw,  and  not  going 
into  the  testimony.  You  could  safely  trust  the  judge  to 
do  that.  It  was  a  great  speech." 

"  Thank  you/'  said  Peter. 

"  He's  not  to  be  taffied,"  thought  the  lawyer.  "  Plain 
talking's  the  way  to  deal  with  him."  He  ended  his 
allusions  to  the  trial,  and  said  :  "Now,  Mr.  Stirling,  Mr. 
Bohlmann  doesn't  want  to  have  these  civil  suits  go  any 
further.  Mr.  Bohlmann's  a  man  of  respectability,  with  a 
nice  wife  and  some  daughters.  The  newspapers  are  giv- 
ing him  quite  enough  music  without  your  dragging  him 
into  court." 

"  It's  the  only  way  I  can  reach  him,"  said  Peter. 

"But  you  mustn't  want  to  reach  him.  He's  really  a 
well-meaning  man,  and  if  you  ask  your  clergyman — for  I 
believe  you  go  to  Dr.  Purple's  church  ? — you'll  find  he's 
very  charitable  and  generous  with  his  money." 

Peter  smiled  curiously.  "Distributing  money  made 
that  way  is  not  much  of  a  charity." 

"He  didn't  know,"  said  the  lawyer.  Then  catching  a 
look  which  came  into  Peter's  face,  he  instantly  added,  "  at 
least,  he  had  no  idea  it  was  that  bad.  He  tells  me  that 
he  hadn't  been  inside  those  cow-sheds  for  four  years. " 

"Come  and  see  me  to-morrow,"  said  Peter. 

After  Dummer  had  gone,  Peter  walked  uptown,  and  saw 
his  clergyman. 


THE  CONSEQUENCES.  75 

"Yes,"  he  was  told,  "  Mr.  Bohknann  has  always  stood 
high  in  the  church,  and  has  been  liberal  and  sensible  with 
his  money.  I  can't  tell  you  how  this  whole  thing  has  sur- 
prised and  grieved  me,  Mr.  Stirling.  It  must  be  terrible 
for  his  wife.  His  daughters,  too,  are  such  nice  sweet  girls. 
You've  probably  noticed  them  in  church?  " 

"No."  Peter  had  not  noticed  them.  He  did  not  add 
that  he  did  not  notice  young  girls — that  for  some  reason 
they  had  not  interested  him  since — since 

"Where  does  he  live?"  inquired  Peter. 

"Not  ten  blocks  from  here,"  replied  Dr.  Purple,  and 
named  the  street  and  number. 

Peter  looked  at  his  watch  and,  thanking  the  clergyman, 
took  his  leave.  He  did  not  go  back  to  his  office,  but  to 
the  address,  and  asked  for  Mr.  Bohlmann.  A  respect- 
able butler  showed  him  into  a  handsome  parlor  and  car- 
ried his  name  to  the  brewer. 

There  were  already  two  girls  in  the  room.  One  was 
evidently  a  caller.  The  other,  a  girl  with  a  sweet,  kindly, 
German  face,  was  obviously  one  of  the  "nice  "daughters. 
His  arrival  checked  the  flow  of  conversation  somewhat, 
but  they  went  on  comparing  their  summer  experiences. 
When  the  butler  came  back  and  said  aloud,  "Mr.  Bohlmann 
will  see  you  in  the  library,  Mr.  Stirling,"  Peter  noticed 
that  both  girls  turned  impulsively  to  look  at  him,  and 
that  the  daughter  flushed  red. 

He  found  Mr.  Bohlmann  standing  uneasily  on  the  rug 
by  the  fireplace,  and  a  stout  woman  gazing  out  of  the 
window,  with  her  back  to  the  room. 

"I  had  a  call  from  your  lawyer  this  morning,  Mr. 
Bohlmann,"  said  Peter,  "and  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
coming  to  see  you  about  the  cases." 

"Sid  down,  sid  down, "said  his  host,  nervously,  though 
not  sitting  himself. 

Peter  sat  down.  "  I  want  to  do  what  is  best  about  the 
matter,"  he  said. 

The  woman  turned  quickly  to  look  at  him,  and  Peter 
saw  that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Veil,"  said  the  brewer,  "what  "is  dat?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Peter,  "and  that's  why  I've  come 
to  see  you." 

Mr.  Bohlmann's  face  worked  fora  moment.  Then  sud- 
denly he  burst  into  tears.  "I  give  you  my  word, 


76  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Stirling1,"  he  said,  "that  I  didn't  know  it  was  so.  I  haven't 
had  a  happy  moment  since  you  spoke  that  day  in  court." 
He  had  heretofore  spoken  in  English  with  a  slight  German 
accent.  But  this  he  said  in  German.  He  sat  down  at  the 
table  and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms.  His  wife,  who  was 
also  weeping,  crossed  to  him,  and  tried  to  comfort  him  by 
patting  him  on  the  back. 

"  I  think,"  said  Peter,  "  we  had  best  drop  the  suits." 

Mr.  Bohlmann  looked  up.  "It  is  not  the  money,  Mr. 
Stirling,"  he  said,  still  speaking  in  German.  "See."  He 
drew  from  a  drawer  in  his  desk  a  check-book,  and  filling 
up  a  check,  handed  it  to  Peter.  It  was  dated  and  signed, 
but  the  amount  was  left  blank.  "There,"  he  said,  "I 
leave  it  to  you  what  is  right." 

"I  think  Mr.  Dummer  will  feel  we  have  not  treated 
him  fairly,"  said  Peter,  "if  we  settle  it  in  this  way." 

"  Do  not  think  of  him.  I  will  see  that  he  has  no  cause 
for  complaint,"  the  brewer  said.  "Only  let  me  know 

it  is  ended,  so  that  my  wife  and  my  daughters "  he 

choked,  and  ended  the  sentence  thus. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Peter.      "We'll  drop  the  suits/1 

The  husband  and  wife  embraced  each  other  in  true 
German  fashion. 

Peter  rose  and  came  to  the  table.  "  Three  of  the  cases 
were  for  five  thousand  each,  and  the  other  two  were  for 
two  thousand  each,"  he  said,  and  then  hesitated.  He 
wished  to  be  fair  to  both  sides.  ' '  I  will  ask  you  to  fill 
in  the  check  for  eight  thousand  dollars.  That  will  be 
two  each  for  three,  and  one  each  for  two." 

Mr.  Bohlmann  disengaged  himself  from  his  wife,  and 
took  his  pen.  "You  do  not  add  your  fee,"  he  said. 

"I  forgot  it,"  laughed  Peter,  and  the  couple  laughed 
with  him  in  their  happiness.  ' '  Make  it  for  eight  thousand, 
two  hundred  and  fifty/' 

"Och,"  said  the  brewer  once  more  resuming  his 
English.  "  Dat  is  too  leedle  for  vive  cases." 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "It  was  what  I  had  decided  to 
charge  in  case  I  got  any  damages." 

So  the  check  was  filled  in,  and  Peter,  after  a  warm 
handshake  from  both,  went  back  to  his  office. 

"  Dat  iss  a  fine  yoong  mahn,"  said  the  brewer. 


4  NEW  FRIEND.  JJ 


CHAPTER   XVII. 
A  NEW  FRIEND. 

THE  day  after  this  episode,  Peter  had  the  very  unusual 
experience  of  a  note  by  his  morning's  mail  Except  for 
his  mother's  weekly  letter,  it  was  the  first  he  had  received 
since  Watts  had  sailed,  two  years  before.  For  the  moment 
he  thought  that  it  must  be  from  him,  and  the  color  came 
into  his  face  at  the  mere  thought  that  he  would  have  news 
of — of — Watts.  But  a  momenc's  glance  at  the  writing 
showed  him  he  was  wrong,  and  he  tore  the  envelope  with 
little  interest  in  his  face.  Indeed  after  he  had  opened  it, 
he  looked  at  his  wall  for  a  moment  before  he  fixed  his 
mind  on  it. 

It  contained  a  brief  note,  to  this  effect : 

"A  recent  trial  indicates  that  Mr.  Stirling  needs  neither  praise  not 
reward  as  incentives  for  the  doing  of  noble  deeds. 

*'  But  one  who  prefers  to  remain  unknown  cannot  restrain  her  grateful 
thanks  to  Mr.  Stirling  for  what  he  did ;  and  being  debarred  from  such 
acts  herself,  asks  that  at  least  she  may  be  permitted  to  aid  him  in  them 
by  enclosing  a  counsel  fee  for  *  the  case  of  the  tenement  children  of 
New  York  against  the  inhumanity  of  men's  greed.' 

"  September  third." 

Peter  looked  at  the  enclosure,  and  found  it  was  a  check 
for  five  hundred  dollars.  He  laid  it  on  his  desk,  and  read 
the  note  over  again.  It  was  beyond  question  written  by 
a  lady.  Every  earmark  showed  that,  from  the  delicate 
scent  of  the  paper,  to  the  fine,  even  handwriting.  Peter 
wanted  to  know  who  she  was.  He  looked  at  the  check 
to  see  by  whom  it  was  signed ;  to  find  that  it  was  drawn 
by  the  cashier  of  the  bank  at  which  it  was  payable. 

Half  an  hour  later,  a  rapid  walk  had  brought  him  to 
the  bank  the  name  of  which  was  on  the  check.  It  was 
an  uptown  one,  which  made  a  specialty  of  family  and 
women's  accounts.  Peter  asked  for  the  cashier. 

"  I've  called  abouj;  this  check,"  he  said,  when  that 
official  materialized,  handing  the  slip  of  paper  to  him. 


y8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Yes, "  said  the  cashier  kindly,  though  with  a  touch 
of  the  resigned  sorrow  in  his  voice  which  cashiers  of 
"family's"  and  women's  banks  acquire.  "  You  must 
sign  your  name  on  the  back,  on  the  left-hand  end,  and 
present  it  to  the  paying-teller,  over  at  that  window. 
You'll  have  to  be  identified  if  the  paying-teller  doesn't 
know  you." 

"I  don't  want  the  money,"  said  Peter.  "  I  want  to 
know  who  sent  the  check  to  me  ?  " 

The  cashier  looked  at  it  more  carefully.  "  Oh  !  "  he 
said.  Then  he  looked  up  quickly  at  Peter,  with  consider- 
able interest.  "Are  you  Mr.  Stirling?" 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  I  filled  this  up  by  order  of  the  president,  and 
you'll  have  to  see  him  about  it,  if  you  want  more  than 
the  money." 

"  Can  I  see  him?  " 

"  Come  this  way." 

They  went  into  a  small  office  at  the  end  of  the 
bank. 

"  Mr.  Dyer,"  said  the  cashier,  "  this  is  Mr.  Stirling, 
and  he's  come  to  see  about  that  check/' 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Stirling.     Sit  down." 

"  I  wish  to  learn  who  sent  the  check." 

"  Very  sorry  we  can't  oblige  you.  We  had  positive 
instructions  from  the  person  for  whom  we  drew  it,  that 
no  name  was  to  be  given." 

'  Can  you  receive  a  letter  ?  " 

'  That  was  forbidden  too." 

'  A  message  ?  " 

'  Nothing  was  said  about  that." 

'  Then  will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  say  to  the  lady 
that  the  check  will  not  be  cashed  till  Mr.  Stirling  has  been 
able  to  explain  something  to  her." 

"  Certainly.     She  can't  object  to  that." 

"Thank  you." 

"  Not  at  all."  The  president  rose  and  escorted  him  to 
the  door.  "That  was  a  splendid  speech  of  yours,  Mr. 
Stirling,"  he  added.  "  I'm  not  a  bit  ashamed  to  say  that 
it  put  salt  water  in  my  old  eyes." 

"  I  think,"  said  Peter,  "  it  was  the  deaths  of  the  poor 
little  children,  more  than  anything  I  said,  that  made  people 
feel  it." 


A  NEW  FRIEN-B.  79 

The  next  morning's  mail  brought  Peter  a  second  note, 
in  the  same  handwriting  as  that  of  the  day  before.  It 
read : 

"Miss  De  Voe  has  received  Mr.  Stirling's  message  and  will  be  pleased 
to  see  him  in  regard  to  the  check,  at  half  after  eleven  to-day  (Wed- 
nesday) if  he  will  call  upon  her. 

"  Miss  De  Voe  regrets  the  necessity  of  giving  Mr.  Stirling  such  brief 
notice,  but  she  leaves  New  York  on  Thursday." 

As  Peter  walked  up  town  that  morning,  he  was  a  little 
surprised  that  he  was  so  cool  over  his  intended  call.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  would  be  in  the  presence  of  a  lady,  the 
firmness  of  whose  handwriting  indicated  that  she  was  not 
yet  decrepit.  Three  years  ago  such  a  prospect  would 
have  been  replete  with  terror  to  him.  Down  to  that — that 
week  at  the  Pierce's,  he  had  never  gone  to  a  place  where 
he  expected  to  "  encounter"  (for  that  was  the  word  he 
formerly  used)  women  without  dread.  Since  that  week — 
except  for  the  twenty-four  hours  of  the  wedding,  he  had 
not  "  encountered  "  a  lady.  Yet  here  he  was,  going  to 
meet  an  entire  stranger  without  any  conscious  embarrass- 
ment or  suffering.  He  was  even  in  a  sense  curious. 
Peter  was  not  given  to  self-analysis,  but  the  change  was 
too  marked  a  one  for  him  to  be  unconscious  of  it.  Was 
it  merely  the  poise  of  added  years  ?  Was  it  that  he  had 
ceased  to  care  what  women  thought  of  him  ?  Or  was  it 
that  his  discovery  that  a  girl  was  lovable  had  made  the 
sex  less  terrible  to  him  ?  Such  were  the  questions  he 
asked  himself  as  he  walked,  and  he  had  not  answered 
them  when  he  rang  the  bell  of  the  old-fashioned,  double 
house  on  Second  Avenue. 

He  was  shown  into  a  large  drawing-room,  the  fittings 
of  which  were  still  shrouded  in  summer  coverings,  prevent- 
ing Peter  from  inferring  much,  even  if  he  had  had  time  to 
do  so.  But  the  butler  had  scarcely  left  him  when,  with  a 
well-bred  promptness  from  which  Peter  might  have  drawn 
an  inference,  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  draperies  was  heard. 
Rising,  Peter  found  himself  facing  a  tall,  rather  slender 
woman  of  between  thirty-five  and  forty.  It  did  not  need 
a  second  glance  from  even  Peter's  untrained  eye,  to 
realize  the  suggestion  of  breeding  in  the  whole  atmos- 
phere about  her.  The  gown  was  of  the  simplest  summer 
material,  but  its  very  simplicity,  and  a  certain  lack  of 
"  latest  fashion  "  rather  than  "  old-fashionedness  "  gave  it 


Bo  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

a  quality  of  respectability.  Every  line  of  the  face,  the  set 
of  the  head,  and  even  more  the  carriage  of  the  figure, 
conveyed  the  "took  of  race," 

"I  must  thank  you,  Mr.  Stirling,"  she  said,  speaking 
deliberately,  in  a  low,  mellow  voice,  by  no  means  so 
common  then  as  our  women's  imitation  of  the  English 
tone  and  inflexion  has  since  made  it,  "for  suiting  your 
time  to  mine  on  such  short  notice." 

"You  were  very  kind/' said  Peter,  "to  comply  with 
my  request.  Any  time  was  convenient  to  me." 

"  I  am  glad  it  suited  you/' 

Peter  had  expected  to  be  asked  to  sit  down,  but,  nothing 
being  said,  began  his  explanation. 

"I  am  very  grateful,  Miss  De  Voe,  for  your  note,  and 
for  the  check.  I  thank  you  for  both.  But  I  think  you 
probably  sent  me  the  latter  through  a  mistake,  and  so  I 
did  not  feel  justified  in  accepting  it/' 

"A  mistake?" 

"Yes.  The  papers  made  many  errors  in  their  state* 
ments.  I'm  not  a  'poor  young  lawyer/ as  they  said. 
My  mother  is  comfortably  off,  and  gives  me  an  ample 
allowance." 

"Yes?" 

"And  what  is  more/' continued  Peter,  "while  they 
were  right  in  saying  that  I  paid  some  of  the  expenses  of 
the  case,  yet  I  was  more  than  repaid  by  my  fees  in  some 
civil  suits  I  brought  for  the  relatives  of  the  children,  which 
we  settled  very  advantageously. " 

"  Won't  you  sit  down,  Mr.  Stirling  ?  "  said  Miss  De  Voe. 
"I  should  like  to  hear  about  the  cases." 

Peter  began  a  very  simple  narrative  of  the  matter. 
But  Miss  De  Voe  interjected  questions  or  suppositions 
here  and  there,  which  led  to  other  explanations,  and  before 
Peter  had  finished,  he  had  told  not  merely  the  history  of 
the  cases,  but  much  else.  His  mention  of  the  two  Dooley 
children  had  brought  out  the  fact  of  their  visit  to  his 
mother,  and  this  had  explained  incidentally  her  position 
in  the  world.  The  settlement  of  the  cases  involved  the 
story  of  ^the  visit  to  the  brewer's  home,  and  Peter,  to 
justify  his  action,  added  his  interview  with  his  pastor. 
Peter's  connection  with  the  case  compelled  him  to 
speak  of  his  evenings  in  the  "angle/'  and  the  solitary  life 
that  had  sent  him  there.  Afterwards,  Peter  was  rather  sur- 


A  NEW  FRIEND.  8t 

prised  at  how  much  he  had  told.  He  did  not  realize  that 
a  woman  with  tact  and  experience  can,  without  making  it 
evident,  lead  a  man  to  tell  nearly  anything  and  everything 
he  knows,  if  she  is  so  minded.  If  women  ever  really  take 
to  the  bar  seriously,  may  Providence  protect  the  average 
being  in  trousers,  when  on  the  witness  stand  I 

As  Peter  talked,  a  clock  struck.  Stopping  short,  he 
rose.  "I  must  ask  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  had  no 
idea  I  had  taken  so  much  of  your  time. "  Then  putting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  he  produced  the  check.  "You  see 
that  I  have  made  a  very  good  thing  out  of  the  whole 
matter  and  do  not  need  this." 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Stirling/1  said  the  lady,  still  sitting. 
"Can  you  spare  the  time  to  lunch  with  me?  We  will  sit 
down  at  once,  and  you  shall  be  free  to  go  whenever  you 
wish." 

Peter  hesitated.  He  knew  that  he  had  the  time,  and 
it  did  not  seem  easy  to  refuse  without  giving  an  excuse, 
which  he  did  not  have.  Yet  he  did  not  feel  that  he  had 
the  right  to  accept  an  invitation  which  he  had  perhaps 
necessitated  by  his  long  call. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  his  hostess,  before  he  had  been  able 
to  frame  an  answer.  "  May  I  trouble  you  to  pull  that  bell  ?  " 

Peter  pulled  the  bell,  and  coming  back,  tendered  the 
check  rather  awkwardly  to  Miss  De  Voe.  She,  however, 
was  looking  towards  a  doorway,  which  the  next  moment 
was  darkened  by  the  butler. 

"  Morden," she  said,  "you  may  serve  luncheon  at  once." 

"Luncheon  is  served,  madam,"  said  Morden. 

Miss  De  Voe  rose.  "  Mr.  Stirling,  I  do  not  think  your 
explanation  has  really  affected  the  circumstances  which 
led  me  to  send  that  check.  You  acknowledge  yourself 
that  you  are  the  poorer  for  that  prosecution,  and 
received  no  fees  for  trying  it.  As  I  wrote  you,  I  merely 
was  giving  a  retaining  fee  in  that  case,  and  as  none  other 
has  been  given,  I  still  wish  to  do  it.  I  cannot  do  such 
things  myself,  but  I  am  weal — I — I  can  well  afford  to  aid 
others  to  do  them,  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  have  the 
happiness  of  feeling  that  I  have  done  my  little  in  this 
matter." 

"  Thank  you, "  said  Peter.  "  I  was  quite  willing  to  take 
the  money,  but  I  was  afraid  you  might  have  sent  it  under 
a  misconception," 


82  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Miss  De  Voe  smiled  at  Peter  with  a  very  nice  look  in 
her  face.  "I  am  the  one  to  say  'thank  you/  and  I  am 
most  grateful.  But  we  will  consider  that  as  ended,  and 
discuss  luncheon  in  its  place." 

Peter,  despite  his  usual  unconsciousness  could  not 
but  notice  the  beauty  of  the  table  service.  The  meal 
itself  was  the  simplest  of  summer  luncheons,  but  the 
silver  and  china  and  glass  were  such  as  he  had  never 
seen  before. 

"What  wine  will  you  have  with  your  luncheon,  Mr. 
Stirling? "  he  was  asked  by  his  hostess. 

"  I  don't — none  for  me/'  replied  Peter. 

"You  don't  approve  of  wine?  "  asked  his  hostess. 

"  Personally  I  have  no  feeling  about  it." 

"But?  "  And  there  was  a  very  big  question  mark  in 
Miss  De  Voe's  voice. 

"  My  mother  is  strongly  prejudiced  against  it,  so  I  do 
not  take  it.  It  is  really  no  deprivation  to  me,  while  it 
would  mean  great  anxiety  to  her  if  I  drank/' 

This  started  the  conversation  on  Peter's  mother  and  his 
early  years,  and  before  it  had  ended,  his  hostess  had  suc- 
ceeded in  learning  much  more  about  his  origin  and 
his  New  York  life.  The  clock  finally  cut  him  short  again, 
for  they  lingered  at  the  table  long  after  the  meal  was 
finished,  though  Miss  De  Voe  made  the  pretence  of  eating 
a  grape  occasionally.  When  three  o'clock  struck,  Peter, 
without  the  least  simulating  any  other  cause  for  going, 
rose  hastily. 

"  I  have  used  up  your  whole  afternoon,"  he  said,  apolo- 
getically. 

"I  think,"  smiled  Miss  De  Voe,  "  that  we  are  equal  cul- 
prits in  that.  I  leave  town  to-morrow,  Mr.  Stirling, 
but  return  to  the  city  late  in  October,  and  if  your  work 
and  inclination  favor  it,  I  hope  you  will  come  to  see  me 
again  ? " 

Peter  looked  at  the  silver  and  the  china.  Then  he 
looked  at  Miss  De  Voe,  so  obviously  an  aristocrat 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to,"  he  said,  "if,  when  you  return, 
you  will  send  me  word  that  you  wish  to  see  me." 

Miss  De  Voe  had  slightly  caught  her  breath  while  Peter 
hesitated.  "I  believe  he  is  going  to  refuse  !  "  she  thought 
to  herself,  a  sort  of  stunned  amazement  seizing  her.  She 
was  scarcely  less  surprised  at  his  reply. 


A  NEW  FRIEND.  83 

"I  never  ask  a  man  twice  to  call  on  me,  Mr.  Stirling," 
she  said,  with  a  slight  hauteur  in  her  voice. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,"  said  Peter  quietly. 

Miss  De  Voe  caught  her  breath  again.  "Good-after- 
noon," she  said,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  I  shall  hope  to 
see  you." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Peter,  and  the  next  moment  was 
walking  towards  his  office. 

Miss  De  Voe  stood  for  a  moment  thinking.  "That 
was  curious,"  she  thought,  "I  wonder  if  he  intends  to 
come  ?  " 

The  next  evening  she  was  dining  with  relatives  in  one 
of  the  fashionable  summering  places,  and  was  telling 
them  about  her  call  "from  Mr.  Stirling,  the  lawyer  who 
made  that  splendid  speech." 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  when  I  received  the  message, 
that  I  was  going  to  be  buried  under  a  bathos  of  thanks, 
or  else  have  my  gift  declined  with  the  expectation  that 
1  would  gush  over  the  disinterestedness  of  the  refusal. 
Since  I  couldn't  well  avoid  seeing  trim,  I  was  quite  pre- 
pared to  snub  him,  or  to  take  back  the  money  without  a 
word.  But  he  wasn't  a  bit  that  kind  of  creature.  He 
isn't  sell -assured  nor  tonguey — rather  the  reverse.  I 
liked  him  so,  that  I  forced  him  to  stay  to  luncheon, 
and  made  him  tell  me  a  good  deal  about  himself, 
without  his  knowing  I  was  doing  so.  He  leads  a  very 
unusual  life,  without  seeming  conscious  that  he  does, 
and  he  tells  about  it  very  well.  Uses  just  the  right  word 
every  time,  so  that  you  know  exactly  what  he  means, 
without  taxing  your  own  brain  to  fill  up  blanks.  He  has 
such  a  nice  voice  too.  One  that  makes  you  certain  of 
the  absolute  truth  underneath.  No.  He  isn't  good  look- 
ing, though  he  has  fine  eyes,  and  hair.  His  face  and 
figure  are  both  too  heavy." 

"  Is  he  a  gentleman,  cousin  Anneke?"  asked  one  of 
the  party. 

."  He  is  a  little  awkward,  and  over-blunt  at  moments, 
but  nothing  to  which  one  would  give  a  second  thought. 
I  was  so  pleased  with  him  that  I  asked  him  to  call  on  me." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  another,  ""that  you  are  over- 
paying him." 

"That  was  the  most  curious  part,"  replied  Miss  De 
Voe.  "I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  he  means  to  come.  It 


84  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

was  really  refreshing  not  to  be  truckled  to,  but  it  is 
rather  startling  to  meet  the  first  man  who  does  not  want 
to  win  his  way  to  my  visiting  list.  I  don't  think  he  even 
knows  who  Miss  De  Voe  is." 

"He  will  find  out  quick  enough,"  laughed  a  girl,  "  and 
then  he  will  do  what  they  all  do." 

"No,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "I  suspect  it  will  make  no 
difference.  He  isn't  that  kind,  I  think.  I  reafly  am 
curious  to  see  if  I  have  to  ask  him  a  second  time.  It  will 
be  the  only  case  I  can  remember.  I'm  afraid,  my  dears, 
your  cousin  is  getting  to  be  an  old  woman." 

Peter,  had  in  truth,  met,  and  spent  over  four  hours  in 
the  company  of  a  woman  whom  every  one  wished  to  know. 
A  woman  equally  famous  for  her  lineage,  her  social 
position,  her  wealth  and  her  philanthropy.  It  would  not 
have  made  any  difference,  probably,  had  he  known  it, 
though  it  might  have  increased  his  awkwardness  a  little. 
That  he  was  not  quite  as  unconscious  as  Miss  De  Voe 
seemed  to  think,  is  shown  by  a  passage  in  a  letter  he  wrote 
to  his  mother : 

"  She  was  very  much  interested  in  the  case,  and  asked  a  good  many 
questions  about  it,  and  about  myself.  Some  which  I  would  rather  not 
have  answered,  but  since  she  asked  them  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
dodge  them.  She  asked  me  to  come  and  see  her  again.  It  is  probably 
nothing  but  a  passing  interest,  such  as  this  class  feel  for  the  moment." — 
[Then  Peter  carefully  inked  out  "such  as  this  class  feel  for  the 
moment,"  and  reproved  himself  that  his  bitterness  at — at — at  one  ex- 
perience, should  make  him  condemn  a  whole  class] — "but  if  she  asks 
me  again  I  shall  go,  for  there  is  something  very  sweet  and  noble  about 
her.  I  think  she  is  probably  some  great  personage." 

Later  on  in  the  letter  he  wrote  : 

"  If  you  do  not  disapprove,  I  will  put  this  money  in  the  savings 
bank,  in  a  special  or  trustee  account,  and  use  it  for  any  good  that  I  can 
do  for  the  people  about  here.  I  gave  the  case  my  service,  and  do  not 
think  I  am  entitled  to  take  pay  when  the  money  can  be  so  much  bettei 
employed  for  the  benefit  of  the  people  I  tried  to  help." 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
ANOTHER   CLIENT. 

PETER  had  seen  his  clients  on  the  morning  following  the 
settlement  of  the  cases,  and  told  them  of  their  good  fortune. 
They  each  had  a  look  at  Bohlmann's  check,  and  then  were 
asked  how  they  would  like  their  shares. 


ANOTHER  CLIENT.  85 

"Sure,"  said  Dooley,  "Oi  shan't  know  what  to  do 
wid  that  much  money." 

"I  think,"  said  Peter,  "that  your  two  thousand  really 
belongs  to  the, children." 

"That  it  does,"  said  Mrs.  Dooley,  quite  willing  to 
deprive  her  husband  of  it,  for  the  benefit  of  her  chil- 
dren. 

"  But  what  shall  Oi  do  wid  it?  "  asked  Mr.  Dooley. 

"  I'd  like  Mr.  Stirling  to  take  charge  of  mine,"  said 
Blackett. 

"That's  the  idea,"  said  Pooley. 

And  so  it  was  settled  by  all.  Peter  said  the  beet  thing 
would  be  to  put  it"  in  the  savings  bank.  "  Perhaps  later 
we'll  find  something  better."  They  all  went  around  to 
a  well-known  institution  on  the  Bowery,  and  Peter  inter- 
viewed the  cashier.  It  proved  feasible  to  endorse  over 
the  check  to  the  bank,  and  credit  the  proper  share  to  each. 

"I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  give  me  the  odd  two 
hundred  and  fifty,"  Peter  said,  "as  that  is  my  legal  fee." 

"  You  had  better  let  me  put  that  in  your  name,  Mr. 
Stirling  ?  "  said  the  president,  who  had  been  called  into  the 
consultation. 

"Very  well,"  said  Peter.  "I  shall  want  some  of  it 
before  long,  but  the  rest  will  be  very  well  off  here. "  So 
a  book  was  handed  him,  and  the  president  shook  him  by 
the  hand  with  all  the  warmth  that  eight  thousand  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  of  increased  assets  and  four  new 
depositors  implied. 

Peter  did  not  need  to  draw  any  of  the  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  however.  In  November  he  had  another  knock 
at  his  door. 

It  proved  to  be  Mr.  Dennis  Moriarty,  of  whom  we  have 
incidentally  spoken  in  connection  with  the  half-price 
drinks  for  the  Milligan  wake,  and  as  spokesman  of  the 
torchlight  procession. 

"  Good-mornin'  to  yez,  sir,"  said  the  visitor. 

It  was  a  peculiarity  of  Peter's  that  he  never  forgot  faces. 
He  did  not  know  Mr.  Moriarty's  name,  never  having  had 
it  given  him,  but  he  placed  him  instantly. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter,  holding  out  his  hand.  Peter 
did  not  usually  shake  hands  in  meeting  people,  but  he 
liked  the  man's  face.  It  would  never  take  a  prize  for 
beauty.  The  hair  verged  on  a  fiery  red,  the  nose  was  a 


86  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

real  sky-scraper  and  the  upper  lip  was  almost  probos- 
cidian in  its  length.  But  every  one  liked  the  face. 

"It's  proud  Oi'm  bein'  shakin'  the  hand  av  Misthex 
Stirling,"  said  the  Irishman. 

"  Sit  down/'  said  Peter. 

"My  name's  Moriarty,  sir,  Dinnis  Moriarty,  an'  Oi 
keeps  a  saloon  near  Centre  Street,  beyant." 

"  You  were  round  here  in  the  procession." 

"  Oi  was,  sir.  Shure,  Oi'm  not  much  at  a  speech, 
compared  to  the  likes  av  yez,  but  the  b'ys  would  have  me 
do  it." 

Peter  said  something  appropriate,  and  then  there  was 
a  pause. 

"  Misther  Stirling,"  finally  said  Moriarty,  "Oi  was  up 
before  Justice  Gallagher  yesterday,  an'  he  fined  me  bad. 
Oi  want  yez  to  go  to  him,  an7  get  him  to  be  easier  wid  me. 
It's  yezself  can  do  it. " 

"  What  were  you  fined  for  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"  For  bein'  open  on  Sunday." 

"Then  you  ought  to  be  fined." 

"  Don't  say  that  till  Oi  tell  yez.  Oi  don't  want  to  keep 
my  place  open,  but  it's  in  my  lease,  an'  so  Oi  have  to." 

"  In  your  lease  ?  "  enquired  Peter. 

"  Yes."     And  the  paper  was  handed  over  to  him. 

Peter  ran  over  the  three  documents.  "  I  see,"  he  said, 
"you  are  only  the  caretaker  really,  the  brewer  having  an 
assignment  of  the  lease  and  a  chattel  mortgage  on  your 
fixtures  and  stock. " 

"That's  it,"  said  Dennis.  "It's  mighty  quick  yez  got 
at  it.  It's  caretaker  Oi  am,  an'  a  divil  of  a  care  it  is. 
Shure,  who  wants  to  work  seven  days  a  week,  if  he  can 
do  wid  six  ?  " 

"You  should  have  declined  to  agree  to  that  condition?  " 

"Then  Oi'd  have  been  turned  out.  Begobs,  it's  such 
poor  beer  that  it's  little  enough  Oi  sell  even  in  seven 
days. " 

"  Why  don't  you  get  your  beer  elsewhere  then  ?  " 

"Why,  it's  Edelhein  put  me  in  there  to  sell  his  stuff, 
an'  he'd  never  let  me  sell  anythin'  else." 

"Then  Edelhein  is  really  the  principal,  and  you  are 
only  put  ir.  to  Keep  him  out  of  sight  ?  " 

"That's  it." 

"  And  you  have  put  no  money  in  yourself?  " 


ANOTHER  CLIENT.  Bj 

"Divil  a  cent." 

"Then  why  doesn't  he  pay  the  fine  ?  n 

"  He  says  Oi  have  no  business  to  be  afther  bein'  fined. 
As  if  any  one  sellin'  his  beer  could  help  bein'  fined  !  " 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  said  Peter,  inferring  that  selling  poo? 
beer  was  a  finable  offence,  yet  ignorant  of  the  statute. 

"Why  yez  see,  sir,  the  b'ys  don't  like  that  beer — an' 
sensible  they  are — so  they  go  to  other  places,  an'  don't 
come  to  my  place." 

"  But  that  doesn't  explain  your  fines." 

"Av  course  it  does.  Shure,  if  the  boys  don't  come  to 
my  place,  it's  little  Oi  can  do  at  the  primary,  an'  so  it's 
no  pull  Oi  have  in  politics,  to  get  the  perlice  an'  the 
joodges  to  be  easy  wid  me,  like  they  are  to  the  rest." 

Peter  studied  his  blank  wall  a  bit. 

"Shure,  if  it's  good  beer  Oi  had,"  continued  Moriarty, 
"Oi'd  be  afther  beatin'  them  all,  for  Oi  was  always 
popular  wid  the  b'ys,  on  account  of  my  usin'  my  fists 
so  fine." 

Peter  smiled.  "Why  don't  you  go  into  something 
else  ?  "  he  asked 

"  Well,  there's  mother  and  the  three  childers  to  be 
supported,  an'  then  Oi'd  lose  my  influence  at  the  primary." 

"  What  kind  of  beer  does  Mr.  Bohlmann  make  ?  "  asked 
Peter,  somewhat  irrelevantly. 

"Ah,"  said  Moriarty,  "that's  the  fine  honest  beer! 
There's  never  any  thin'  wrong  wid  his.  An'  he  treats  his 
keepers  fair.  Lets  them  do  as  they  want  about  keepin' 
open  Sundays,  an'  never  squeezes  a  man  when  he's  down 
on  his  luck." 

Peter  looked  at  his  wall  again.  Peter  was  learning 
something. 

"  Supposing,"  he  asked,  "I  was  able  to  get  your  fine 
remitted,  and  that  clause  struck  out  of  the  lease.  Would 
you  open  on  Sunday?  " 

"Divila  bit." 

"  When  must  you  pay  the  fine  ?  " 

"Oi'm  out  on  bail  till  to-morrow,  sir." 

"Then  leave  these  papers  with  me,  and  come  in  about 
this  time." 

Peter  studied  his  wall  for  a  bit  after  his  new  client 
was  gone.  He  did  not  like  either  saloon-keepers  or  law- 
breakers, but  this  case  seemed  to  him  to  have — to  have 


88  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

—extenuating  circumstances.  His  cogitations  finally 
resulted  in  his  going  to  Justice  Gallagher's  court.  He 
found  the  judge  rather  curt 

"He's  been  up  here  three  times  in  as  many  months, 
and  I  intend  to  make  an  example  of  him." 

"But  why  is  only  he  arrested,  when  every  saloon 
keeper  in  the  neighborhood  does  the  same  thing  ?  " 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  judge,  "  don't  waste  any  more  of 
my  time.  What's  the  next  case?  " 

A  look  we  have  mentioned  once  or  twice  came  into 
Peter's  face.  He  started  to  leave  the  court,  but  en- 
countered at  the  door  one  of  the  policemen  whom  he 
was  "friends  with/'  according  to  the  children,  which 
meant  that  they  had  chatted  sometimes  in  the  "  angle." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  Dennis  Moriarty  ?  "  he  asked  of 
him. 

"  A  fine  young  fellow,  supporting  his  mother  and  his 
younger  brothers. " 

"  Why  is  Justice  Gallagher  so  down  on  him  ? " 

The  policeman  looked  about  a  moment.  "It's  politics, 
sir,  and  he's  had  orders." 

"From  whom?" 

"That's  more  than  we  know.  There  was  a  row  last 
spring  in  the  primary,  and  we've  had  orders  since  then  to 
lay  for  him." 

Peter  stood  and  thought  for  a  moment.  "What  saloon- 
keeper round  here  has  the  biggest  pull? "  he  asked. 

"It's  all  of  them,  mostly,  but  Blunkers  is  a  big  man. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  He  stood  in  the  street  think- 
ing a  little.  Then  he  walked  a  couple  of  blocks  and 
went  into  Blunkers's  great  gin  palace. 

"I  want  to  see  the  proprietor,"  he  said. 

"Dat's  me,"  said  a  man  who  v/as  reading  a  paper  be- 
hind the  bar. 

"  Do  you  know  Justice  Gallagher  ?  " 

"  Do  I  ?     Well,  I  guess,"  said  the  man. 

"Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  go  with  me  to  his  court, 
and  get  him  to  remit  Dennis  Moriarty's  fine  ?  " 

"Will  I?  No.  I  will  not.  Der's  too  many  saloons, 
and  one  less  will  be  bully." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Peter  quietly,  "I  suppose  you 
won't  mind  my  closing  yours  up  ?  " 

"Wot  der  yer  mean  ?  "  angrily  inquired  the  man. 


ANOTHER  CLIENT.  89 

"  If  it  comes  to  closing  saloons,  two  can  play  at  that 
game." 

"Who  is  yer,  anyway?"  The  man  came  out  from 
behind  the  bar,  squaring  his  shoulders  in  an  ugly  manner. 

"  My  name's  Stirling.     Peter  Stirling." 

The  man  looked  at  him  with  interest.  "  Howll  yer 
close  my  place  ?  " 

'  Get  evidence  against  you,  and  prosecute  you." 
'Dat  ain't  de  way." 
'  It  will  be  my  way." 
'  Wot  yer  got  against  me  ? " 

'  Nothing.  But  I  intend  to  see  Moriarty  have  fair 
play.  You  want  to  fight  on  the  square  too.  You're  not 
a  man  to  hit  a  fellow  in  the  dark." 

Peter  was  not  flattering  the  man.  He  had  measured 
him  and  was  telling  him  the  result  of  that  measure.  He 
told  it,  too,  in  a  way  that  made  the  other  man  realize  the 
opinion  behind  the  words. 

"Come  on,"  said  Blunkers,  good-naturedly. 

They  went  over  to  the  court,  and  a  whispered  colloquy 
took  place  between  the  justice  and  the  bartender. 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Stirling,"  presently  said  the 
judge.  "Clerk,  strike  Dennis  Moriarty 's  fine  off  the 
list." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter  to  the  saloon-keeper.  "If  I 
can  ever  do  a  turn  for  you,  let  me  know  it." 

"  Dat's  hunky,"  said  the  man,  and  they  parted. 

Peter  went  out  and  walked  into  the  region  of  the 
National  Milk  Company,  but  this  time  he  went  to  the 
brewery.  He  found  Mr.  Bohlmann,  and  told  him  the 
story,  asking  his  advice  at  the  end. 

"  Dondt  you  vool  von  minute  mit  dod  Edelheim.  I 
dells  you  vot  I  do.  I  harf  choost  a  blace  vacant  down  in 
Zender  Streed,  and  your  frient  he  shall  it  haf." 

So  they  chatted  till  all  the  details  had  been  arranged. 
Dennis  was  to  go  in  as  caretaker,  bound  to  use  only 
Bohlmann's  beer,  with  a  percentage  on  that,  and  the 
profits  on  all  else.  He  was  to  pay  the  rent,  receiving  a 
sub-lease  from  Bohlmann,  who  was  only  a  lesee  himself, 
and  to  give  a  chattel  mortgage  on  the  stock  supplied  him. 
Finally  he  was  to  have  the  right  of  redemption  of  stock, 
lease,  and  good-will  at  any  time  within  five  years,  on 
making  certain  payments. 


JO  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

'*You  draw  up  der  babers,  Misder  Stirling,  and  send 
der  bill  to  me.  Ve  vill  give  der  yoonger  a  chance,"  the 
brewer  said. 

When  Dennis  called  the  next  day,  he  was  "spache- 
less  "  at  the  new  developments.  He  wrung  Peter's  hand. 

"Arrah,  what  can  Oi  say  to  yez  ? "  he  exclaimed 
finally.  Then  having  found  something,  he  quickly  con- 
tinued :  "Now,  Patsy  Blunkers,  lookout  for  yezself.  It's 
the  divil  Oi'll  give  yez  in  the  primary  this  year/' 

He  begged  Peter  to  come  down  the  opening  night,  and 
help  to  "celebrate  the  event." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter,  "but  I  don't  think  I  will." 

"Shure,"  said  Dennis,  "yez  needn't  be  afraid  it  won't 
be  orderly.  It's  myself  can  do  the  hittin',  an'  the  b'ys 
know  it." 

"  My  mother  brought  me  up,"  Peter  explained,  "  not  to 
go  into  saloons,  and  when  I  came  to  New  York  I  prom- 
ised her,  if  I  ever  did  anything  she  had  taught  me  not  to, 
that  I  would  write  her  about  it.  She  would  hardly  under- 
stand this  visit,  and  it  might  make  her  very  unhappy." 

Peter  earned  fifty  dollars  by  drawing  the  papers,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  first  month  Dennis  brought  him  fifty  more. 

"Trade's  been  fine,  sir,  an'  Oi  want  to  pay  somethin' 
for  what  yez  did." 

So  Peter  left  his  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  the 
bank,  having  recouped  the  expenses  of  the  first  case 
out  of  his  new  client. 

He  wrote  all  about  it  to  his  mother  : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  won't  approve  of  what  I  did  entirely,  for  I  know 
your  strong  feeling  against  men  who  make  and  sell  liquor.  But  I  some- 
now  have  been  made  to  feel  in  the  last  few  days  that  more  can  be  done 
in  the  world  by  kindness  and  help  than  by  frowns  and  prosecutions.  I 
|had  no  thought  of  getting  money  out  of  the  case,  so  I  am  sure  I  was  not 
j influenced  by  that.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  man  was  being  unfairly 
treated,  and  that  too,  by  laws  which  are  meant  for  other  purposes.  I 
really  tried  to  think  it  out,  and  do  what  seemed  right  to  me.  My  last 
client  has  a  look  and  a  way  of  speaking  that  makes  me  certain  he's  a 
fine  fellow,  and  I  shall  try  to  see  something  of  him,  provided  it  will  not 
worry  you  to  think  of  me  as  friendly  with  a  saloon-keeper.  I  know  I 
.can  be  of  use  to  him." 

/     Little  did  Peter  know  how  useful  his  last  client  would 
/  be  to  him. 


THE  PRIMARY.  gi 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
THE    PRIMARY. 

AFTER  this  rush  of  work,  Peter's  life  became  as  routine 
as  of  yore.  The  winter  passed  without  an  event  worth 
noting,  if  we  except  a  steadily  growing  acquaintance 
with  the  dwellers  of  the  district.  But  in  July  a  new  phase 
was  injected  into  it  by  a  call  from  Dennis  Moriarty. 

"  Good-mornin'  to  yez,  sir,  an' a  fine  day  it  is,"  said 
the  latter,  with  his  usually  breezy  way. 

"Yes, "said  Peter. 

"Misther  Stirling.  An' is  it  engaged  yez  are  for  this 
night  ?  " 

"  No."    Peter  had  nothing. 

"Then,"  said  Dennis,  "maybe  yell  be  afther  goin' 
wid  me  to  the  primary?" 

"What  primary?" 

"  For  the  election  of  delegates  to  the  convention,  shure. " 

"No.     What  party?" 

"What  party  is  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Misther  Stirling,  do  yez  know  my  name?" 

"Dennis  Moriarty,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes.     An*  what's  my  business  ?  " 

"You  keep  a  saloon." 

"  Yes.     An'  what  ward  do  Oi  live  in  ?  " 

"The  sixth,  don't  you?" 

"Then,"  said  Dennis,  his  upper  lip  twisting  into  a  smile 
of  enormous  proportions,  "Oi  suppose  yez  afther  thinkin' 
Oi'm  a  dirty  black  Republican." 

Peter  laughed,  as  few  could  help  doing,  when  Dennis 
led  the  way.  "Look  here,  Dennis,"  he  said,  "don't 
you  run  down  that  party.  My  father  was  a  Democrat, 
but  he  voted  for  Lincoln,  and  fought  for  the  blacks  when 
the  time  came,  and  though  I'm  a  Democrat  like  him,  the 
Republicans  are  only  black  in  their  sympathies,  and  not 
in  their  acts." 

"An'  what  do  yez  say  to  the  whisky  frauds,  an'  black 
Friday,  an'  credit  mobilier  ?  "  asked  Dennis, 


92  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  like  them,"  said  Peter;  "but  that's 
the  politicians,  not  the  party." 

"Shure,"  said  Dennis,  "  what's  the  party  but  the  men 
that  run  it?" 

"You've  seen  something  of  Mr.  Bohlmann  lately,  Den- 
nis ? " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  he  was  the  man  who  put  Goldman  in  charge  of 
that  cow  stable.  Yet  he's  an  honest  man." 

Dennis  scratched  his  head.  "  It's  a  convincin'  way  yez 
have  wid  yez,"  he  said;  "but  it's  scoundrels  the  Republi- 
cans are,  all  the  same.  Look  at  them  in  the  district; 
there's  not  one  a  decent  man  would  invite  to  drink  wid 
him." 

"I  think,  Dennis,"  said  Peter,  "that  when  all  the  de- 
cent men  get  into  one  party,  there'll  be  only  one  worth 
talking  about." 

"Av  course,"  replied  Dennis.  "That's  the  reason 
there's  only  the  Democratic  party  in  New  York  City." 

"Tell  me  about  this  primary,"  said  Peter,  concluding 
that  abstract  political  philosophy  was  not  the  way  to  lib- 
eralize Dennis. 

"It's  most  important,  it  is,"  he  was  told,  "it's  on  top 
Patsy  Blunkers  an'  his  gang  av  dirty  spalpeens  (Dennis 
seemed  to  forget  that  he  had  just  expressed  the  opinion 
that  all  the  "decent"  men  were  Democrats)  have  been 
this  two  years,  but  we've  got  orders  for  a  new  enrollment 
at  last,  an'  if  we  don't  knock  them  this  time,  my  name 
isn't  Dinnis  Moriarty." 

"What  is  the  question  before  the  meeting?" 

"Afther  the  enrollment,  it's  to  vote  for  delegates." 

"Oh  I  Then  it's  just  a  struggle  over  who  shall  be 
elected?" 

"That's  it.  But  a  fine,  big  fight  it  will  be.  The  whole 
district's  so  excited,  sir,  that  it's  twice  Oi've  had  to  pound 
the  b'ys  a  bit  in  my  saloon  to  keep  the  peace." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me  ? " 

"Shure,  every  vote  counts  on  a  night  like  this.  An' 
ye'd  be  afther  helpin'  us  big,  for  the  district  likes  yez." 

"But,  Dennis,  I  can't  vote  without  knowing  something 
about  the  way  things  are.  I  shouldn't  know  whether  I 
was  voting  rightly." 

"Why,  a  man  votes  right  when  he  votes  for  his 
friands ! " 


THE  PRIMARY.  93 

"No  ;  a  man  votes  right  when  he  votes  for  his  convic- 
tions. " 

' 'Convictions,  is  it?" 

"Yes.  That  is,  he  votes  as  he  thinks  is  best  for  the 
country." 

"That,  maybe,  is  the  way  yez  do  it  where  yez  come- 
from,"  said  Dennis,  "but  it's  no  good  it  would  be  here. 
Convictions,  whatever  they  be,  are  never  nominated  here. 
It's  real  things  we're  afther  votin'  for  in  New  York." 

Peter  laughed.  "  I've  got  to  take  you  in  hand,  Dennis, 
and  you've  got  to  take  me  in  hand.  I  think  we  both  need 
each  other's  help.  Yes,  I'll  come  to  the  primary.  Will 
they  let  me  vote  ?  " 

"The  dirty  spalpeens  will  never  dare  to  stop  yez  I 
Thank  yez,  sir.  Oi'll  be  along  for  yez  about  eight." 

"Remember,  though,  Dennis — I  don't  say  how  III 
vote." 

"  Yez  just  listen,  an'  Oi'm  not  afraid  av  what  ye'll  do." 

That  evening,  Peter  was  ushered  into  a  large  hot 
room,  pretty  well  packed  with  men,  and  the  interstices 
already  filled  in  with  dense  tobacco  smoke.  He  looked 
about  him  curiously,  and  was  surprised  to  find  how  many 
of  the  faces  he  knew.  Blackett,  Dooley,  and  Milligan 
were  there,  and  shook  hands  with  him  warmly.  Judge 
Gallagher  and  Blunkers  were  in  evidence.  In  plain  clothes 
were  two  policemen,  and  three  of  the  "fire-laddies,"  who 
formed  part  of  the  "  crew  "  of  the  nearest  engine,  with  all 
of  whom  he  had  often  chatted.  Mr.  Dummer,  his  rival 
lawyer  in  the  case,  and  one  of  the  jurymen  in  it,  likewise 
were  visible.  Also  many  faces  which  were  familiar 
to  Peter  by  a  former  occasional  friendly  W9rd  or  nod 
exchanged  in  passing.  Intense  excitement  evidently 
reigned,  and  every  one  was  whispering  in  a  sort  of  breath- 
less way,  which  showed  how  deeply  interested  they  were. 

At  Dennis's  suggestion,  made  in  walking  to  the  room, 
Peter  presented  himself  without  guidance,  at  the  desk. 
Some  one  behind  him  asked  if  he  lived  in  the  ward,  and 
for  how  long,  but  this  was  the  only  apparent  opposition 
made  to  the  prompt  entering  of  his  name.  Then  Peter 
Strolled  round  and  talked  to  those  whom  he  knew,  and 
tried  to  find  out,  without  much  success,  just  what  was  the 
division.  Every  one  knew  that  a  fight  was  on,  but  in  just 
what  it  consisted  they  seemed  neither  to  know  nor  care* 


94  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

He  noticed  that  hot  words  were  constantly  exchanged  at 
the  enrolling  desk,  over  would-be  members,  but  not  un- 
derstanding the  exact  nature  of  the  qualifications  needed, 
he  could  not  follow  the  disputes.  Finally  these  ceased, 
for  want  of  applicants. 

"Misther  Stirling,"  said  Dennis,  coming  up  to  him  hur- 
riedly. "  Will  yez  be  afther  bein'  chairman  for  us  ?  " 

"No.     I  don't  know  anything  about  the  proceedings." 

"  It  don't  take  any,"  said  Dennis.  "  It's  only  fair  play 
we're  afther." 

He  was  gone  again  before  Peter  could  say  anything. 
The  next  instant,  the  enrolling  officer  rose  and  spoke. 

"Are  there  any  more  to  be  enrolled?  "  he  called.  No 
one  came  forward,  so  after  a  moment  he  said:  "Will 
the  meeting  choose  a  presiding  officer? " 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  rang  two  voices  so  quickly  that  they 
in  truth  cut  the  presiding  officer  off  in  his  suggestion. 

"  Mr.  Muldoon,"  said  that  officer. 

"Oi  spoke  first,"  shouted  Dennis,  and  Peter  felt  that  he 
had,  and  that  he  was  not  having  fair  play. 

Instantly  a  wave  of  protest,  denials,  charges,  and 
counter-charges  swept  through  the  room.  Peter  thought 
there  was  going  to  be  a  fight,  but  the  position  was  too 
critical  to  waste  a  moment  on  what  Dennis  styled  "a 
diversion."  It  was  business,  not  pleasure,  just  then. 

"  Mr.  Muldoon,"  said  the  officer  again,  not  heeding  the 
tempest  in  the  least. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  shouted  Muldoon,  "I  am  proud  to 
nominate  Justice  Gallagher,  the  pride  of  the  bar,  for  chair- 
man of  this  distinguished  meeting,  and  I  move  to  make 
his  election  unanimous." 

"  Misther  Chairman/'  shouted  Dennis. 

"  Mr.  Moriarty,"  said  the  officer. 

"  Misther  Chairman,  Oi  have  the  honor  to  nominate  for 
chairman  av  this  meetin'  the  people's  an'  the  children's 
friend,  Misther  Peter  Stirling,  an'Oi  don't  have  to  move  to 
make  it  unanimous,  for  such  is  the  intelligence  an'  man- 
hood av  this  meetin'  that  it  will  be  that  way  for  shure." 

Peter  saw  a  hurried  consultation  going  on  between  Gal- 
lagher, Muldoon,  and  two  others,  during  the  latter  part  of 
this  speech,  and  barely  had  Dennis  finished  his  remarks^ 
when  Justice  Gallagher  tpoke  up, 

"Mr.  Chairman." 


THE  PRIMARY.  95 

"The  Honorable  Justice  Gallagher,"  said  that  gentle- 
man. 

"I  take  pride  in  withdrawing  in  favor  of  Mr.  Stirling, 
who  so  justly  merits  the  honor  of  presiding  on  this  impor- 
tant occasion.  From  recent  events  too  well  known  to 
need  mention,  I  am  sure  we  can  all  look  to  him  for  jus- 
tice and  fairness." 

"Bad  cess  to  him!"  groaned  Dennis.  "  Oi  hoped 
they'd  be  just  fools  enough  to  oppose  yez,  an'  then  we'd 
have  won  the  first  blood." 

Peter  was  chosen  without  dissent,  and  was  escorted  to 
the  seat  behind  the  desk. 

"What  is  the  first  business  before  the  meeting?"  he 
asked  of  Gallagher,  aside,  as  he  was  taking  his  seat. 

"  Election  of  delegates  to  the  State  convention.  That's 
all  to-night,"  he  was  told. 

Peter  had  presided  at  college  in  debates,  and  was  not 
flurried.  "  Will  you  stay  here  so  as  to  give  me  the  names 
of  those  I  don't  know  ?  "  he  said  to  the  enrolling  officer. 
"The  meeting  will  please  come  to  order,"  he  continued 
aloud.  "The  nomination  of  delegates  to  the  State 
convention  is  the  business  to  be  acted  upon." 

"  Misther Chairman,"  yelled  Dennis,  evidently  expecting 
to  find  another  rival  as  before.  But  no  one  spoke. 

"Mr.  Moriarty,"  said  Peter. 

"  Misther  Chairman.  It's  my  delight  to  nominate  as 
delegates  to  the  State  convention,  the  Honorable  Misther 
Schlur^er,  our  distinguished  representative  in  the  Assem- 
bly, the  Honorable  Misther  Kennedy,  our  noble  Police- 
commissioner,  an'  Misther  Caggs,  whom  it  would  be  insult 
for  me  to  praise  in  this  company." 

"Second  the  motion,"  said  some  one. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  shouted  a  man. 

"That's  Caggs,"  said  the  enrolling  officer. 

"  Mr.  Caggs,"  said  Peter. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Caggs.  "I  must  decline  the 
honor  offered  me  from  such  a  source." 

"  What  ?"  shrieked  Dennis,  amazement  and  rage  con- 
testing for  first  place  in  voice  and  expression. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Dummer. 

"Mr.  Dummer,"  said  Peter. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  nominate  the  Honorable  Justice 
Gallagher,  Mr.  Peter  Sweeney,  and  Mr.  Caggs,  to  whom 


96  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Mr.  Moriarty  has  just  paid  so  glowing  a  tribute,  as  dele* 
gates  to  the  State  convention." 

"Second  the "  shouted  some  one,  but  the  rest  was 

drowned  by  another  storm  which  swept  through  the  room. 
Even  above  the  tumult,  Peter  could  hear  Dennis  challeng- 
ing and  beseeching  Mr.  Caggs  to  come  "  outside  an' settle  it 
like  gentlemen. "  Caggs,  from  a  secure  retreat  behind  Blun- 
kers's  right  arm,  declined  to  let  the  siren's  song  tempt  him 
forth.  Finally  Peter's  pounding  brought  a  degree  of  quiet 
again. 

"  Misther  Chairman/'  said  Dennis. 

"Mr.  Moriarty,  "  said  Peter. 

"  Misther  Chairman.  Oi'll  not  take  the  valuable  time 
av  this  meetin'  to  speak  av  dirty,  cowardly,  black-hearted, 
treacherous  snakes,  wid  souls  blacker  than  the  divilfe 
own " 

"Order  !  "  said  Peter  to  the  crowd. 

"No,"  continued  Dennis,  in  answer  to  the  audible  re- 
marks of  the  opposition.  "  It's  no  names  Oi'm  callin'.  If 
yez  know  such  a  beast,  such  a  snake,  fit  it  to  him.  Oi'm 
mentionin'  no  names.  As  Oi  was  sayin',  Misther  Chair- 
man, Oi'll  not  waste  the  time  av  this  meetin'  wid  dis- 
cribin'  the  conduct  av  a  beast  so  vile  that  he  must  be 
the  contempt  av  every  honest  man.  Who  would  have 
been  driven  out  by  St.  Patrick,  wid  the  rest  av  the  rep- 
tiles, if  he'd  lived  at  that  time.  Oi  only  rise  to  widdraw 
the  name  av  Caggs  from  the  list  Oi  nominated  for 
delegates  to  the  state  convention,  an'  to  put  in  place  av  it 
that  av  a  man  who  is  as  noble  an*  true,  as  some  are  false 
an'  divilish.  That  of  Misther  Peter  Stirling,  God  bless 
him  ! " 

Once  more  chaos  came.  Peter  pounded  in  vain.  Both 
sides  were  at  fever  heat.  Finally  Peter  rose. 

"Gentlemen/'  he  shouted,  in  a  voice  that  rang  through 
the  hall  above  even  the  tumult,  "if  this  meeting  does 
not  come  to  order,  I  shall  declare  it  adjourned." 

^  Instant  quiet  fell,  for  all  had  paused  a  moment  to  hear 
his  words,  and  they  concluded  that  he  was  in  earnest. 

"Was  the  last  motion  seconded?'*  asked  the  chairman 
calmly. 

"  I  seconded  it,"  shouted  Blackett  and  Milligan  together. 

"You  have  heard  the  nominations,  gentlemen.  Has 
any  one  any  remarks  to  make  ?  " 


A  POLITICAL  DEBUT.  97 

A  man  next  Justice  Gallagher  said,  ' '  Mr.  Chairman,  *  and 
being  duly  recognized,  proceeded  to  talk  for  ten  minutes 
in  a  very  useless  way.  But  during  this  time,  Peter 
noticed  first  a  good  deal  of  whispering  among  Blunkers's 
friends,  and  then  an  interview  between  Gallagher  and 
Dennis.  The  latter  was  apparently  not  reconcilable,  and 
shook  his  head  in  a  way  that  meant  war.  Then  there 
was  more  consultation  between  the  opposition,  and 
another  confab  with  Dennis,  with  more  headshakes  on 
his  part.  Finally  a  compromise  having  been  evidently 
made  impossible,  the  orator  was  " called  down"  and  it 
was  voted  to  proceed  to  an  election.  Peter  named  one 
of  the  firemen,  Dooley,  and  Blunkers,  tellers,  who,  after  a 
ballot,  announced  that  Dennis  had  carried  his  nominations, 
Peter  heading  the  list  with  two  hundred  and  twelve  votes, 
and  the  others  getting  one  hundred  and  seventy-two,  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  respectively.  The  "snake" 
got  but  fifty-seven  votes. 

"Shure,"  said  Dennis,  later,  "maybe  we  don't  vote  for 
convictions  here,  but  we  don't  vote  for  the  likes  av  him  I  " 

"Then  you  are  voting  for  convictions,"  said  Peter. 

"  It's  yezself  is  the  convictions  then,"  said  Dennis. 

Perhaps  he  was  right. 


CHAPTER  XX* 
A  POLITICAL  DEBUT. 

PETER  declared  the  meeting  adjourned  as  soon  as 
the  results  of  the  election  had  been  read,  and  slipped 
away  in  the  turmoil  that  immediately  followed,  without 
a  word  to  any  one.  He  was  in  truth  not  bewildered — 
because  he  had  too  much  natural  poise  and  phlegm — but 
he  was  surprised  by  the  suddenness  of  it  all,  and  wanted 
to  think  before  talking  with  others.  So  he  took  advantage 
of  the  mutual  bickerings  and  recriminations  which  seemed 
the  order  of  the  day,  to  get  back  to  his  office,  and  there 
he  sat,  studying  his  wall  for  a  time.  Then  he  went  ta 
bed,  and  slept  as  quickly  and  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  spent 
his  evening  in  reading  the  ' '  Modern  Cottage  Architecture  * 
or  "Questions  de  Sociologie,"  which  were  on  his  table^ 


^8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

instead  of  presiding  at  a  red-hot  primary,  and  being 
elected  a  delegate. 

The  next  morning  Dennis  came  to  see  him  as  early  as 
well  could  be. 

"Misther  Stirling,"  he  said,  his  face  expanding  into  the 
broadest  of  grins,  "let  me  salute  the  delegate  to  the 
State  convention." 

"  Look  here,  Dennis,"  said  Peter,  "you  know  you  had 
no  business  to  spring  that  on  me." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  Shure,  when  that  dirty  little  spalpeen  av  a 
Caggs  went  back  on  us  so,  what  could  Oi  do  ?  Oi  know 
it's  speak  to  yez  Oi  ought,  but  wid  de  room  yellin'  like 
that  it's  divilish  tryin'  to  do  the  right  thing  quick,  barrin' 
it's  not  hittin'  some  one's  head,  which  always  comes  nat- 
ural." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  of  course  I'm  very  much  pleased 
to  have  been  chosen,  but  I  wish  it  could  have  been  doae 
with  less  hard  feeling." 

"Hardfeelin/isit?" 

"Yes." 

"  Shure,  the  b'ys  are  as  pleased  an'  kindly  this  mornin" 
as  can  be.  It's  a  fight  like  that  makes  them  yieldin'  an' 
friendly.  Nothin'  but  a  little  head-punchin'  could  make 
them  in  a  sweeter  mood,  an'  we'd  a  given  them  that  if 
little  Caggs  had  had  any  sense  in  him." 

"You  mean  Gallagher  and  Blunkers  and  the  rest  of 
them  ? " 

"Av  course.  That  little  time  last  night  didn't  mean 
much.  No  one  feels  bad  over  that.  Shure,  it's  Gallagher 
was  in  my  place  later  last  night,  an'  we  had  a  most  friendly 
time,  he  treatin'  the  whole  crowd  twice.  We've  got  to 
fight  in  the  primary  to  keep  the  b'ys  interested,  but  it's 
seldom  that  they're  not  just  as  friendly  the  next  day." 

Peter  looked  at  his  wall.  He  had  not  liked  Gallagher 
at  either  time  he  had  met  him.  "Still,"  he  thought  to 
himself,  "I  have  no  right  to  prevent  him  and  Dennis 
being  friends,  from  the  little  I've  seen." 

"Now,  sir,  about  the  convention  ?"  said  Dennis. 

"I  suppose  Porter  is  the  best  man  talked  of  for  the 
nomination, "remarked  Peter. 

"Begobs,  sir,  that  he's  not,"  said  Dennis.  "It's  Jus- 
tice Gallagher  was  tellin'  me  himself  that  he  was  a  pool 
kind  av  creature,  wid  a  strong  objection  to  saloons." 


A  POLITICAL  DEBUT.  99 

Peter's  eye  lost  its  last  suggestion  of  doubt.  "Oh, 
Justice  Gallagher  told  you  that  ?  "  he  asked  "  When?  " 

"  Last  night." 
'  After  the  primary  ? " 
'Av  course." 
'  Whom  does  he  favor  ?  " 
'Catlin." 

'Well,  Dennis,  you've  made  me  a  delegate,  but  I've 
got  to  vote  my  own  way." 

"Shure,  sir,  Oi'd  not  have  yez  do  anythin'  else.  It's 
yezself  knows  better  than  me.  Oi  was  only  tellin'  yez 
what  the  Justice " 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  him.  It  proved  to  be 
Gallagher,  who  greeted  them  both  in  a  hearty,  friendly 
way.  Peter  brought  another  chair  from  his  bedroom. 

"Well,  Mr.  Stirling,  that  was  a  fine  contest  we  had 
last  night,"  said  his  honor. 

"  It  seemed  to  be  earnest,"  said  Peter. 

"  It's  just  as  well  our  friend  here  sprang  your  nomi- 
nation on  us  as  a  surprise,  for  if  we  had  known,  we  should 
not  have  put  up  an  opposition  candidate.  You  are  just 
the  sort  of  a  man  we  want  to  represent  us  in  the  conven- 
tion." 

'  *  I  have  never  met  my  colleagues, "  said  Peter.  ' '  What 
kind  of  men  are  they  ?  " 

So  he  got  Gallagher's  opinion,  and  Dennis's  opinion. 
Then  he  wanted  to  know  about  the  candidates,  asking 
questions  about  them  at  considerable  length.  The  inten- 
tions of  the  other  city  delegates  were  next  introduced. 
Finally  the  probable  planks  of  the  platform  were  brought 
up.  While  they  were  still  under  discussion  Gallagher 
said  the  sitting  of  his  court  compelled  him  to  leave. 

"  I'll  come  in  some  time  when  I  have  more  to  spare." 

Gallagher  went  to  his  court,  and  found  a  man  waiting 
for  him  there. 

"  He's  either  very  simple  or  very  deep,"  said  Gallagher. 
"  He  did  nothing  but  ask  questions  ;  and  try  my  best 
I  could  not  get  him  to  show  his  hand,  nor  commit  himself. 
It  will  be  bad  if  there's  a  split  in  a  solid  delegation  I" 

ct  I  hope  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  you  to  have  things  better 
arranged." 

"  Blunkers  would  have  it  that  way,  and  he's  not  the 
kind  of  man  to  offend  We  all  thought  he  would  win/ 


too  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Oh,  let  them  have  their  fights,"  said  the  man  crossly  • 
"  but  it's  your  business  to  see  that  the  right  men  are  put 
tip,  so  that  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  which  side  wins." 

"  Well,"  said  Gallagher,  "  I've  done  all  I  could  to  put 
things  straight.  I've  made  peace,  and  got  Moriarty  on 
our  side,  and  I've  talked  to  this  Stirling,  and  made  out  a 
strong  case  for  Catlin,  without  seeming  to  care  which  man 
gets  the  nomination." 

"  Is  there  any  way  of  putting  pressure  on  him?  " 

"  Not  that  I  can  find  out.  He's  a  young  lawyer,  who 
has  no  business." 

"Then  he's  a  man  we  don't  need  to  conciliate,  if  he 
won't  behave  ?  " 

"No.  I  can't  say  that.  He's  made  himself  very  popu- 
lar round  here  by  that  case  and  by  being  friendly  to  peo- 
ple. I  don't  think,  if  he's  going  into  politics,  that  it  will 
-do  to  fight  him." 

"  He's  such  a  green  hand  that  we  ought  to  be  able  to 
down  him." 

"  He's  new,  but  he's  a  pretty  cool,  knowing  chap,  I 
think.  I  had  one  experience  with  him,  which  showed  me 
that  any  man  who  picked  him  up  for  a  fool  would  drop 
him  quick."  Then  he  told  how  Dennis's  fine  had  been 
remitted. 

In  the  next  few  weeks  Peter  met  a  good  many  men  who 
wanted  to  talk  politics  with  him.  Gallagher  brought 
some  ;  Dennis  others ;  his  fellow-ward  delegates,  more. 
But  Peter  could  not  be  induced  to  commit  himself.  He 
would  talk  candidates  and  principles  endlessly,  but  with- 
out expressing  his  own  mind.  Twice  he  was  -asked  point 
blank,  "Who's  your  man?"  but  he  promptly  answered 
that  he  had  not  yet  decided.  He  had  always  read  a 
Democratic  paper,  but  now  he  read  two,  and  a  Republi- 
can organ  as  well.  His  other  reading  lessened  markedly, 
and  the  time  gained  was  spent  in  talking  with  men  in  the 
"  district."  He  even  went  into  the  saloons  and  listened 
to  the  discussions. 

"  I  don't  drink,"  he  had  to  explain  several  times,  "  be- 
cause, my  mother  doesn't  like  it."  For  some  reason  this 
explanation  seemed  to  be  perfectly  satisfactory.  One  man 
alone  sneered  at  him.  "Does  she  feed  yer  still  on  milk, 
sonny?"  he  asked.  "No,"  said  Peter,  "but  everything 
I  have  comes  from  her,  and  that's  the  kind  of  a  mother  a 


A  POLITICAL  DEBUT.  101 

fellow  wants  to  please ;  don't  you  think  so  ? "  The 
sneerer  hesitated,  and  finally  said  he  "guessed  it  was." 
So  Peter  was  made  one  of  them,  and  smoked  and  listened. 
He  said  very  little,  but  that  little  was  sound,  good 
sense,  and,  if  he  did  not  talk,  he  made  others  do  so  ;  and, 
after  the  men  had  argued  over  something,  they  often 
looked  at  Peter,  rather  than  at  their  opponents,  to  see  if  he 
seemed  to  approve  of  their  opinions. 

"  It's  a  fine  way  he  has  wid  the  b'ys,"  Dennis  told  his 
mother.  "  He  makes  them  feel  that  he's  just  the  likes  av 
them,  an'  that  he  wants  their  minds  an'  opinions  to  help 
him.  Shure,  they'd  rather  smoke  one  pipe  av  his  tobaccy 
than  drink  ten  times  at  Gallagher's  expense." 

After  Peter  had  listened  carefully  and  lengthily,  he 
wrote  to  "  The  Honorable  Lemuel  Porter,  Hudson,  N. 
Y.,"  asking  him  if  he  could  give  him  an  hour's  talk  some 
day.  The  reply  was  prompt,  and  told  Peter  that  Porter 
would  be  glad  to  see  him  any  time  that  should  suit  his 
convenience.  So  Peter  took  a  day  off  and  ran  up  to 
Hudson. 

"  I  am  trying  to  find  out  for  whom  I  should  vote,"  he 
explained  to  Porter.  "  I'm  a  new  man  at  this  sort  of  thing,, 
and,  not  having  met  any  of  the  men  talked  of,  I  preferred 
to  see  them  before  going  to  the  convention." 

Porter  found  that  Peter  had  taken  the  trouble  to  go  over 
a  back  file  of  papers,  and  read  some  of  his  speeches. 

"  Of  course,"  Peter  explained,  "I  want,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, to  know  what  you  think  of  questions  likely  to  be 
matters  for  legislation." 

"  The  difficulty  in  doing  that,  Mr,  Stirling,"  he  was 
told,  "  is  that  every  nominee  is  bound  to  surrender  his 
opinions  in  a  certain  degree  to  the  party  platform,  while 
other  opinions  have  to  be  modified  to  new  conditions." 

"  I  can  see  that,"  said  Peter.  "  I  do  not  for  a  moment 
expect  that  what  you  say  to-day  is  in  any  sense  a 
pledge.  If  a  man's  honest,  the  poorest  thing  we  can  da 
to  him  is  to  tie  him  fast  to  one  course  of  action,  when  the 
conditions  are  constantly  changing.  But,  of  course,  you 
have  opinions  for  the  present  state  of  things  ?  " 

Something  in  Peter's  explanation  or  face  pleased  Mr. 
Porten  He  demurred  no  more,  and,  for  an  hour  before 
lunch,  and  during;  that  meal,  he  talked  with  the  utmost 
freedom. 


102  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  I'm  not  easily  fooled  on  men,"  he  told  his  secretary 
afterwards,  "  and  you  can  say  what  you  wish  to  that 
Stirling-  without  danger  of  its  being1  used  unfairly  or  to  in- 
jure one.  And  he's  the  kind  of  man  to  be  won  by  square 
dealing." 

Peter  had  spoken  of  his  own  district.  "  I  think,"  he  said, 
"that  some  good  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  non-partisan 
legislation.  I've  been  studying  the  food  supplies  of  the 
city,  and,  if  I  can,  I  shall  try  to  get  a  bill  introduced  this 
winter  to  have  official  inspections  systematized." 

"That  will  receive  my  approval  if  it  is  properly  drawn. 
But  you'll  probably  find  the  Health  Board  righting  you* 
It's  a  nest  of  politicians." 

"If  they  won't  yield,  I  shall  have  to  antagonize  them, 
but  I  have  had  some  talks  with  the  men  there,  in  con- 
nection  with  the  'swill-milk'  investigations,  and  I 
think  I  can  frame  a  bill  that  will  do  what  I  want,  yet 
which  they  will  not  oppose.  I  shall  try  to  make  them 
help  me  in  the  drafting,  for  they  can  make  it  much  better 
through  their  practical  experience." 

"If  you  do  that,  the  opposition  ought  not  to  be 
troublesome.  What  else  do  you  want  ? " 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  a  general  Tenement-house  bill, 
but  I  don't  think  I  shall  try  for  that  this  winter.  It's 
a  big  subject,  which  needs  very  careful  study,  in 
which  a  lot  of  harm  may  be  done  by  ignorance.  There's 
no  doubt  that  anything  which  hurts  the  landlord,  hurts 
the  tenant,  and  if  you  make  the  former  spend  money, 
the  tenant  pays  for  it  in  the  long  run.  Yet  health 
must  be  protected.  I  shall  try  to  find  out  what  can  be 
done." 

"I  wish  you  would  get  into  the  legislature  yourself, 
Mr.  Stirling." 

"I  shall  not  try  for  office.  I  want  to  go  on  with  my 
profession.  But  I  shall  hope  to  work  in  politics  in  the 
future." 

Peter  took  another  day  off,  and  spent  a  few  minutes  of 
it  with  the  other  most  promising  candidate.  He  did  not 
see  very  much  of  him,  for  they  were  interrupted  by 
another  caller,  and  Peter  had  to  leave  before  he  could 
have  a  chance  to  continue  the  interview. 

"I  had  a  call  to-day  from  that  fellow  Stirling,  who's  a 
delegate  from  the  sixth  ward,"  the  candidate  told  a 


A  POLITICAL  DEBUT.  10$ 

"visitmg  statesman"  later.  "I'm  afraid  he'll  give  us 
trouble.  He  asks  too  many  questions.  Fortunately 
Dewilliger  came  to  see  me,  and  though  I  shouldn't  have 
seen  him  ordinarily,  I  found  his  call  very  opportune  as  a 
means  of  putting  an  end  to  Stirling's  cross-examination/' 

"He's  the  one  doubtful  man  on  the  city's  delegation," 
said  the  statesman.  "It  happened  through  a  mistake. 
It  will  be  very  unfortunate  if  we  can't  cast  a  solid  city 
vote." 

Peter  talked  more  in  the  next  few  days.  He  gave  the 
"b'ys"  his  impressions  of  the  two  candidates,  in  a  way 
which  made  them  trust  his  conclusions.  He  saw  his  two 
fellow  delegates,  and  argued  long  and  earnestly  with 
them.  He  went  to  every  saloon-keeper  in  the  district, 
and  discussed  the  change  in  the  liquor  law  which  was 
likely  to  be  a  prominent  issue  in  the  campaign,  telling 
them  what  he  had  been  able  to  draw  from  both  candidates 
about  the  subject. 

"Catlin  seems  to  promise  you  the  most, "he  told  them, 
"and  I  don't  want  to  say  he  isn't  trying  to  help  you. 
But  if  you  get  the  law  passed  which  he  promises  to  sign, 
you  won't  be  much  better  off.  In  the  first  place,  it  will 
cost  you  a  lot  of  money,  as  you  know,  to  pass  it ;  and 
then  it  will  tempt  people  to  go  into  the  business,  so  that 
it  will  cut  your  profits  that  way.  Then,  you  may  stir  up 
a  big  public  sentiment  against  you  in  the  next  election, 
and  so  lay  yourselves  open  to  unfriendly  legislation.  It 
is  success,  or  trying  to  get  too  much,  which  has  beaten 
every  party,  sooner  or  later,  in  this  country.  Look  at 
slavery.  If  the  Southerners  had  left  things  as  they  were 
under  the  Missouri  Compromise,  they  never  would  have 
stirred  up  the  popular  outbreak  that  destroyed  slavery. 
Now,  Porter  is  said  to  be  unfriendly  to  you,  because  he 
wants  a  bill  to  limit  the  number  of  licenses,  and  to  in- 
crease the  fee  to  new  saloons.  Don't  you  see  that  is  all 
in  your  favor,  though  apparently  against  you  ?  In  the 
first  place,  you  are  established,  and  the  law  will  be  drawn 
so  as  to  give  the  old  dealer  precedence  over  a  new  one  in 
granting  fresh  licenses.  This  limit  will  really  give  the 
established  saloon  more  trade  in  the  future,  by  reducing 
competition.  While  the  increase  in  fee  to  new  saloons 
will  do  the  same." 

"  By ,  yer  right,"  said  Blunkers, 


104  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  That's  too  good  a  name  to  use  that  way,"  said  Peter, 
but  more  as  if  he  were  stating  a  fact  than  reproving. 

Blunkers  laughed  good-naturedly.  "Yer'll  be  gittin' 
usen  to  close  up  yet,  Mister  Stirling.  Yer  too  good  for 
us." 

Peter  looked  at  him.  "Blunkers,"  he  said  warmly, 
"no  man  is  too  good  not  to  tell  the  truth  to  any  one 
whom  he  thinks  it  will  help." 

"Shake,"  said  Blunkers.  Then  he  turned  to  the  men  at 
the  tables.  "Step  up,  boys,"  he  called.  "I  sets  it  up 
dis  time  to  drink  der  health  of  der  feller  dat  don't  drink" 

The  boys  drank. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
A  POLITICAL  DINNER. 

PETER  had  only  a  month  for  work  after  reaching  his 
own  conclusions,  before  the  meeting  of  the  conven- 
tion, but  in  that  month  he  worked  hard.  As  the  result, 
a  rumor,  carrying  dismay  to  the  party  leaders,  became 
current. 

"What's  this  I  hear?"  said  Gallagher's  former  inter- 
viewer to  that  gentleman.  "They say  Schlurger says  he 
intends  to  vote  for  Porter,  and  Kennedy's  getting  cold  ?  " 

"  If  you'll  go  through  the  sixth  you'll  hear  more  than 
that." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"There  was  a  torchlight  last  night,  of  nearly  every 
voter  in  the  ward,  and  nothing  but  Stirling  prevented 
them  from  making  the  three  delegates  pledge  themselves 
to  vote  for  Porter.  He  said  they  must  go  unbound." 

The  interviewer's  next  remark  is  best  represented  by 
several  "  blank  its,"  no  allusion  however  being  intended 
to  bed-coverings.  Then  he  cited  the  lower  regions  to 
know  what  it  all  meant. 

"  It  means  that  that  chap  Stirling  has  got  to  be  fixed, 
and  fixed  big.  I  thought  I  knew  how  to  wire  pull,  and 
manage  men,  but  he's  taken  hold  and  just  runs  it  as  he 
wants.  It's  he  makes  all  the  trouble." 


A  POLITICAL  DINNER. 


105 


The  interviewer  left  the  court,  and  five  minutes  later 
was  in  Stirling's  office. 

"My  name's  Green,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  delegate  to  the 
convention,  and  one  of  the  committee  who  has  the  ar- 
ranging of  the  special  train  and  accommodations  at 
Saratoga. " 

"I'm  glad  you  came  in,"  said  Peter.  "I  bought  my 
ticket  yesterday,  and  the  man  at  headquarters  said  he'd 
see  that  I  was  assigned  a  room  at  the  United  States." 

"There'll  be  no  trouble  about  the  arrangements.  What 
I  want  to  see  you  for,  is  to  ask  if  you  won't  dine  with 
me  this  evening  ?  There's  to  be  several  of  the  delegates 
and  some  big  men  there,  to  talk  over  the  situation." 

"  I  should  like  to,"  said  Peter. 

The  man  pulled  out  a  card,  and  handed  it  to  Peter. 
"Six  o'clock  sharp,"  he  said.  Then  he  went  to  head- 
quarters, and  told  the  result  of  his  two  interviews.  "Now 
who  had  better  be  there  ?  "  he  asked.  After  consultation, 
a  dinner  of  six  was  arranged. 

The  meal  proved  to  be  an  interesting  one  to  Peter. 
First,  he  found  that  all  the  guests  were  well-known  party 
men,  whose  names  and  opinions  were  matters  of  daily 
notice  in  the  papers.  What  was  more,  they  talked  con- 
vention affairs,  and  Peter  learned  in  the  two  hours'  gene- 
ral conversation  more  of  true  "interests  "  and  "influences" 
and  "pulls  "  and  "advantages  "  than  all  his  reading  and 
talking  had  hitherto  gained  him.  He  learned  that  in 
New  York  the  great  division  of  interest  was  between 
the  city  and  country  members,  and  that  this  divided 
interest  played  a  part  in  nearly  every  measure.  "  Now," 
said  one  of  the  best  known  men  at  the  table,  "the  men 
who  represent  the  city,  must  look  out  for  the  city.  Por- 
ter's a  fine  man,  but  he  has  no  great  backing,  and  no 
matter  how  well  he  intends  by  us,  he  can't  do  more  than 
agree  to  such  bills  as  we  can  get  passed.  But  Catlin  has 
the  Monroe  members  of  the  legislature  under  his  thumb, 
and  his  brother-in-law  runs  Onandaga.  He  promises 
they  shall  vote  for  all  we  want.  With  that  aid,  we  can 
carry  what  New  York  City  needs,  in  spite  of  the  country 
members." 

"Would  the  country  members  refuse  to  vote  for  really 
good  and  needed  city  legislation  ?"  asked  Peter. 

"Every  time,  unless  we  agree  to  dicker  with  them  on 


K06  TtfE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

some  country  job.  The  country  members  hold  the  inter- 
est of  the  biggest  city  in  this  country  in  their  han^s,  and 
threaten  or  throttle  those  interests  every  time  anything  is 
wanted." 

"And  when  it  comes  to  taxation,"  added  another,  "  the 
country  members  are  always  giving  the  cities  the  big  end 
to  carry." 

"  I  had  a  talk  with  Catlin,"  said  Peter.  "  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  wasn't  the  right  kind  of  man." 

"Catlin's  a  timid  man,  who  never  likes  to  commit  him- 
self. That's  because  he  always  wants  to  do  what  his 
backers  tell  him.  Of  course  when  a  man  does  that,  he 
hasn't  decided  views  of  his  own,  and  naturally  doesn't 
wish  to  express  what  he  may  want  to  take  back  an  hour 
later." 

"  I  don't  like  straw  men,"  said  Peter. 

"A  man  who  takes  other  people's  opinions  is  not  a  bad 
governor,  Mr.  Stirling.  It  all  depends  on  whose  opinion 
he  takes.  If  we  could  find  a  man  who  was  able  to  do 
what  the  majority  wants  every  time,  we  could  re-elect 
him  for  the  next  fifty  years.  You  must  remember  that  in 
this  country  we  elect  a  man  to  do  what  we  want — not  to 
do  what  he  wants  himself." 

"Yes,"  said  Peter.  "But  who  is  to  say  what  the  ma- 
jority wants  ?  " 

"Arn'twe — the  party  leaders — who  are  meeting  daily 
the  ward  leaders,  and  the  big  men  in  the  different  dis- 
tricts, better  able  to  know  what  the  people  want  than 
the  man  who  sits  in  the  governor's  room,  with  a  door- 
keeper to  prevent  the  people  from  seeing  him  ? " 

"  You  may  not  choose  to  do  what  the  people  want." 

<(  Of  course.  I've  h  Iped  push  things  that  I  knew  were 
unpopular.  But  this  is  very  unusual,  because  it's  risky. 
Remember,  we  can  only  do  things  when  our  party  is  in 
power,  so  it  is  our  interest  to  do  what  will  please  the 
people,  if  we  are  to  command  majorities  and  remain  in 
office.  Individually  we  have  got  to  do  what  the  majority 
of  our  party  wants  done,  or  we  are  thrown  out,  and  new 
men  take  our  places.  And  it's  just  the  same  way  with 
the  parties." 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  "  I  understand  the  condition  better, 
and  can  see  what  I  could  not  fathom  before,  why  the  city 
delegates  want  Catlin.  But  my  own  ward  has  come  out 


A  POLITICAL  DINNER.  107 

strong  for  Porter.  We've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
views  on  the  license  question  are  those  which  are  best  for 
us,  and  besides,  he's  said  that  he  will  stand  by  us  in 
some  food  and  tenement  legislation  we  want." 

"  I  know  about  that  change,  and  want  to  say,  Mr.  Stir- 
ling, that  few  men  of  your  years  and  experience,  were 
ever  able  to  do  as  much  so  quickly.  But  there  are  other 
sides,  even  to  these  questions,  which  you  may  not  have 
yet  considered.  Any  proposed  restriction  on  the  license 
will  not  merely  scare  a  lot  of  saloon-keepers,  who  will 
only  understand  that  it  sounds  unfriendly,  but  it  will 
alienate  every  brewer  and  distiller,  for  their  interest  is  to 
see  saloons  multiplied.  Then  food  and  tenement  legisla- 
tion always  stirs  up  bad  feeling  in  the  dealers  and  owners. 
If  the  opposite  party  would  play  fair,  we  could  afford  to 
laugh  at  it,  but  you  see  the  party  out  of  power  can 
oppose  about  anything,  knowing  that  a  minority  is  never 
held  responsible,  and  so  by  winning  over  the  malcontents 
which  every  piece  of  legislation  is  sure  to  make,  before 
long  it  goes  to  the  polls  with  a  majority,  though  it  has 
really  been  opposing  the  best  interests  of  the  whole  state. 
We  can't  sit  still,  and  do  nothing,  yet  everything  we  do 
will  alienate  some  interest." 

11  It's  as  bad  as  the  doctrine  of  fore-ordination,"  laughed 
another  of  the  party  : 

"  You  can't  if  you  will, 
You  can  if  you  won't, 
You'll  be  damned  if  you  do, 
You'll  be  damned  if  you  don't." 

"You  just  said,"  stated  Peter,  "  that  the  man  who  could 
do  what  the  majority  wants  done  every  time,  would  be 
re-elected.  Doesn't  it  hold  true  as  to  a  party  ?  " 

"No.  A  party  is  seldom  retained  in  power  for  such 
reasons.  If  it  has  a  long  tenure  of  office  it  is  generally 
due  to  popular  distrust  of  the  other  party.  The  natural 
tendency  otherwise  is  to  make  office-holding  a  sort  of 
see-saw.  Let  alone  change  of  opinion  in  older  men,  there 
are  enough  new  voters  every  four  years  to  reverse  major- 
ities in  almost  every  state.  Of  course  these  young  men 
care  little  for  what  either  party  has  done  in  the  past,  and 
being  young  and  ardent,  they  want  to  change  things, 
The  minority's  ready  to  please  them,  naturally.  Reform 


jo8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

they  call  it,  but  it's  quite  as  often  '  Deform  '  when  they've 
done  it." 

Peter  smiled  and  said,  "Then  you  think  my  views  on 
license,  and  food-inspection,  and  tenement-house  regula- 
tion are  *  Deformities '  ?  " 

"We  won't  say  that,  but  a  good  many  older  and 
shrewder  heads  have  worked  over  those  questions,  and 
while  I  don't  know  what  you  hope  to  do,  you'll  not  be 
the  first  to  want  to  try  a  change,  Mr.  Stirling." 

"  I  hope  to  do  good.  I  may  fail,  but  it's  not  right  as  it 
is,  and  I  must  try  to  better  it."  Peter  spoke  seriously, 
and  his  voice  was  very  clear.  "I'm  glad  to  have  had 
this  talk,  before  the  convention  meets.  You  are  all  expe* 
rienced  men,  and  I  value  your  opinions." 

"But  don't  intend  to  act  on  them,"  said  his  host  good- 
naturedly. 

"No.  I'm  not  ready  to  say  that.  I've  got  to  think 
them  over." 

"If  you  do  that,  Mr.  Stirling,  you'll  find  we  are  right. 
We  have  not  been  twenty  and  thirty  years  in  this  business 
for  nothing." 

"I  think  you  know  how  to  run  a  party — but  poisoned 
milk  was  peddled  in  my  ward.  I  went  to  law  to  punish 
the  men  who  sold  it.  Now  I'm  going  into  politics  to  try 
and  get  laws  and  administration  which  will  prevent  such 
evils.  I've  told  my  district  what  I  want.  I  think  it 
will  support  me.  I  know  you  can  help  me,  and  I  hope 
you  will.  We  may  disagree  on  methods,  but  if  we  both 
wish  the  good  of  New  York,  we  can't  disagree  on  results." 
Peter  stopped,  rather  amazed  himself  at  the  length  of  his 
speech. 

"What  do  you  want  us  to  do  ? " 

"You  say  that  you  want  to  remain  in  control.  You 
say  you  can  only  do  so  by  majorities.  I  want  you  to 
give  this  city  such  a  government  that  you'll  poll  every 
honest  vote  on  our  side,"  said  Peter  warmly. 

"That's  only  the  generalization  of  a  very  young  man-/' 
said  the  leader. 

Peter  liked  him  all  the  better  for  the  snub.  "  I  general- 
ized, because  it  would  make  clear  the  object  of  my  part- 
icular endeavors.  I  want  to  have  the  Health  Board  help 
me  to  draft  a  food-inspection  bill,  and  I  want  the  legislature 
to  pass  it,  without  letting  it  be  torn  to  pieces  for  the 


A  POLITICAL  DINNER.  109 

benefit  of  special  interests.  I  don't  mind  fair  amend- 
ments, but  they  must  be  honest  ones." 

"And  if  the  Health  Board  helps  you,  and  the  bill  is 
made  a  law  ? " 

Peter  looked  Mr.  Costell  in  the  face,  and  spoke 
quietly :  "  I  shall  tell  my  ward  that  you  have  done 
them  a  great  service." 

Two  of  the  men  moved  uneasily  in  their  seats,  as  if  not 
comfortable,  and  a  third  scowled. 

"  And  if  we  can  give  you  some  tenement-house  legis- 
lation ? "  < 

"  I  shall  tell  my  ward  that  you  have  done  them  a  great 
service."  Peter  spoke  in  the  same  tone  of  voice,  and  still 
looked  Mr.  Costell  in  the  face. 

"  And  if  we  don't  do  either  ?  " 

"  What  I  shall  do  then  will  depend  on  whether  you 
refuse  for  a  good  reason  or  for  none.  In  either  case  I 
shall  tell  them  the  facts." 

"This  is  damned "  began  one  of  the  dinner-party, 

but  the  lifting  of  Mr.  Costell's  hand  stopped  the  speech 
there. 

"  Mr.  Stirling,"  said  Mr.  Costell,  rising  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
hope  when  you  come  to  think  it  over,  that  you  will  vote 
with  us  for  Catlin.  But  whether  you  do  or  not,  we  want 
you  to  work  with  us.  We  can  help  you,  and  you  can  help 
us.  When  you  are  ready  to  begin  on  your  bills,  come 
and  see  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  "That  is  just  what  I  want/' 
He  said  good-night  to  the  company,  and  left  the  house. 

"That  fellow  is  going  to  be  troublesome,"  said  Green. 

"There's  no  good  trying  to  get  anything  out  of  him. 
Better  split  with  him  at  once,"  said  the  guest  who  had 
used  the  expletive. 

"He  can't  have  any  very  big  hold,"  said  a  third. 
"It's  only  that  trial  which  has  given  him  a  temporary 
popularity." 

"  Wait  and  see  if  he  goes  back  on  Catlin,  and  if  he  does, 
lay  for  him,"  remarked  Green. 

A  pause  came,  and  they  all  looked  at  Costell,  who  was 
smiling  a  certain  deep  smile  that  was  almost  habitual 
with  him,  and  which  no  one  had  ever  yet  been  able  to 
read.  "No,"  he  said  slowly.  "You  might  beat  him, 
but  he  isn't  the  kind  that  stays  beat.  I'll  agree  to  outwit 


^8®  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

iny  man  in  politics,  except  the  man  who  knows  how  to 
%ht  and  to  tell  the  people  the  truth.  I've  never  yet 
seen  a  man  beaten  in  the  long  run  who  can  do  both  those, 
unless  he  chose  to  think  himself  beaten.  Gentlemen, 
that  Stirling  is  a  fighter  and  a  truth-teller,  and  you  can't 
beat  him  in  his  ward.  There's  no  use  having  him  against 
us,  so  it's  our  business  to  see  that  we  have  him  with  us. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  get  him  into  line  this  time,  but  we 
must  do  it  in  the  long  run.  For  he's  not  the  kind  that 
lets  go.  He's  beaten  Nelson,  and  he's  beaten  Gallagher, 
both  of  whom  are  old  hands.  Mark  my  words,  in  five 
years  he'll  run  the  sixth  ward.  Drop  all  talk  of  fighting 
him.  He  is  in  politics  to  stay,  and  we  must  make  it 
worth,  his  while  to  stay  with  us." 


CHAPTER 
POLITICS. 

PETER  sat  up  later  than  was  prudent  that  night,  studying 
his  blank  wall.  Yet  when  he  rose  to  go  to  bed,  he  gave 
his  head  a  puzzled  shake.  When  he  had  gone  through 
his  papers,  and  drunk  his  coffee  the  next  morning,  he 
went  back  to  wall-gazing  again.  He  was  working  over 
two  conundrums  not  very  easy  to  answer,  which  were 
somewhat  to  this  effect : 

Does  the  best  man  always  make  the  best  official  ? 

Is  the  honest  judgment  of  a  fellow  verging  on  twenty- 
four  better  than  the  experienced  opinion  of  many  far  older 
men? 

Peter  began  to  think  life  had  not  such  clear  and  direct 
"  right  "  and  *  *  wrong  "  roads  as  he  had  thought.  He  had 
said  to  himself  long  ago  that  it  was  easy  to  take  the  right 
?  one,  but  he  had  not  then  discovered  that  it  is  often  diffi- 
cult to  know  which  is  the  right,  in  order  to  follow  it.  He 
had  started  in  to  punish  Bohlmann,  and  had  compromised. 
He  had  disapproved  of  Dennis  breaking  the  law,  and  had 
compromised  his  disapproval.  He  had  said  he  should 
not  go  into  saloons,  and  had  ended  by  going.  Now  he 
was  confronted  with  the  problem  whether  the  interests  of 
his  ward  would  be  better  served  by  the  nomination  of  a 


POLITICS.  lit 

tnan  of  good  record,  whom  Peter  personally  liked,  or  by 
that  of  a  colorless  man,  who  would  be  ruled  by  the  city's 
leaders.  In  the  one  case  Peter  feared  no  support  for  his 
measures  from  his  own  party.  In  the  other  case  he  saw 
aid  that  was  tantamount  to  success.  Finally  he  shook 
himself. 

"I  believe  Dennis  is  right/'he  said  aloud.  "There  are 
more  'real'  things  than  *  convictions'  in  New  York  poli- 
tics, and  a  'real '  thing  is  much  harder  to  decide  about  in 
voting  than  a  'conviction.'" 

He  went  to  his  bedroom,  packed  his  bag,  and  took 
his  way  to  the  station.  There  he  found  a  dense  crowd  of 
delegates  and  "  well-wishers,  "both  surrounding  and  filling- 
the  special  train  which  was  to  carry  New  York's  contri- 
bution to  the  collected  party  wisdom,  about  to  concentrate 
at  Saratoga. 

Peter  felt  like  a  stranger  in  the  crowd,  but  on  mingling1 
in  it  he  quickly  found  himself  a  marked  man.  He  was 
seized  upon  by  one  of  the  diners  of  the  evening  before, 
and  soon  found  himself  forming  part  of  a  group,  which 
constantly  changed  its  components,  but  continued  to 
talk  convention  affairs  steadily.  Nor  did  the  starting  of 
the  train,  with  cheers,  brass  bands,  flags,  and  other 
enthusing  elements,  make  more  than  a  temporary  break. 
From  the  time  the  special  started,  till  it  rolled  into  Saratoga, 
six  hours  later,  there  was  one  long  series  of  political  debates 
and  confabs.  Peter  listened  much,  and  learned  much, 
for  the  talk  was  very  straight  and  plain.  He  had  chats 
withCostell  and  Green.  His  two  fellow-delegates  from 
"  de  sixt "  sought  him  and  discussed  intentions.  He  liked 
Schlurger,  a  simple,  guileless  German,  who  wanted  only 
to  do  what  his  constituents  wished  him  to  do,  both  in  con- 
vention and  Assembly.  Of  Kennedy  he  was  not  so  sure. 
Kennedy  had  sneered  a  little  at  Peter's  talk  about 
the  "  best  man,"  and  about  "helping  the  ward,"  and  had 
only  found  that  Peter's  ideas  had  value  after  he  had  been 
visited  by  various  of  the  saloon-keepers,  seen  the 
vast  torchlight  meeting,  and  heard  the  cheers  at  Peter's 
arguments.  Still,  Peter  was  by  no  means  sure  that  Ken- 
nedy was  not  a  square  man,  and  concluded  he  was 
right  in  not  condemning  him,  when,  passing  through  one 
of  the  cars,  he  overheard  the  following  : 

"What  kind  of  man  is  that  Stirling,  who's  raised  such 
in  the  sixth  ?  " 


112  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"I  don't  know  him,  but  Kennedy  told  me,  before 
he'd  swung  round,  that  he  was  a  darned  good  sort  of  a 
cuss. " 

This  was  flattery,  Peter  understood,  however  question- 
able the  form  might  seem,  and  he  was  pleased.  Very 
few  of  us  do  not  enjoy  a  real  compliment.  What  makes 
a  compliment  uncomfortable  is  either  a  suspicion  that 
the  maker  doesn't  mean  it,  or  a  knowledge  that  it  is  not 
merited. 

Peter  went  at  once  to  his  room  on  reaching  the  hotel  in 
Saratoga,  intending  to  make  up  the  sleep  of  which  his 
long  "think "the  night  before  had  robbed  him.  But 
scarcely  had  the  colored  gentleman  bowed  himself  out, 
after  the  usual  "can  I  git  de  gentleman  a  pitcher  of  ice 
water  "(which  translated  means  :  "has  de  gentleman  any 
superfluous  change  ?  ")  when  a  knock  came  at  the  door. 
Peter  opened  it,  to  find  a  man  outside. 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Stirling's  room?  "  inquired  the  individual* 

"Yes." 

"  Can  I  see  him  ?  " 

"  Come  in."  Peter  moved  his  bag  off  one  of  his  chairs, 
and  his  hat  and  overcoat  off  the  other. 

"  Mr.  Stirling. "  said  the  stranger  as  he  sat  down,  "I 
am  Senator  Maguire,  and  am,  as  perhaps  you  know,  one 
of  Porter's  managers." 

"Yes." 

"We  understand  that  you  are  friendly  to  us.  Now,  I 
needn't  say  that  New  York  is  otherwise  a  unit  in  opposing 
us." 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "My  fellow-delegates  from  the 
sixth,  Schlurger  and  Kennedy,  stand  as  I  do  1  " 

"Are  you  sure?  " 

"Yes." 

"The  change  must  have  'been  very  sudden.  They 
were  elected  as  Catlin  men,  we  were  told." 

"  Yes.  But  there's  quite  a  different  feeling  in  the  Ward 
now,  and  they  have  yielded  to  it." 

"That's  good  news." 

"  We  all  three  come  here  prepared  to  do  what  seems 
best." 

The  Senator's  expression  lost  some  of  the  satisfaction 
Peter's  news  had  put  into  it.  He  gave  a  quick  look  at 
Peter's  face,  as  if  to  try  and  find  from  it  what  lay  behind 


POLITICS.  113 

the  words.     He  hesitated,  as  if  divided  in  mind  over  two 
courses  of  action.     Finally  he  said  : 

"I  needn't  tell  you  that  this  opposition  of  practically 
the  whole  of  the  New  York  City  delegation,  is  the  most 
serious  set-back  to  Porter's  chance.  Now,  we  have  talked 
it  over,  and  it  seemed  to  us  that  it  would  be  a  great  card 
for  him  if  he  could  be  nominated  by  a  city  delegate. 
Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  him  well  enough,  do  I?  Doesn't  the 
nominating  delegate  have  to  make  a  speech  in  his 
favor  ?  " 

"Yes.  But  I  can  give  you  the  material  to-night.  Or 
if  you  prefer,  we'll  give  it  to  you  all  written  for  delivery  ?  * 

"1  don't  make  other  men's  speeches,  Mr.  Maguire." 

"Suit  yourself  about  that.  It  shall  be  just  as  you 
please." 

"The  difficulty  is  that  I  have  not  decided  myself,  yet, 
how  I  shall  vote,  and  of  course  such  an  act  is  bind- 
ing." 

Mr.  Maguire's  countenance  changed  again.  "  I'm  sorry 
to  hear  that.  I  hoped  you  were  for  Porter.  He's  far  away 
the  best  man." 

"So  I  think." 

The  Senator  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  tucked  his 
thumbs  into  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat.  He  thought 
he  had  fathomed  Peter,  and  felt  that  the  rest  was  plain 
sailing.  "This  is  not  a  chap  to  be  tolled.  I'll  give  him 
the  gaff  at  once/'  was  his  mental  conclusion.  Then  he 
asked  aloud  :  *  p 

"What  do  you  want  ?  " 

It  was  a  question  susceptible  of  many  different  con- 
structions, but  as  Mr.  Maguire  asked  it,  it  seemed  to  him 
to  have  but  one,  and  that  not  very  honest.  Peter  hesi- 
tated. The  temptation  was  strong  to  lead  the  Senator  on, 
but  he  did  not  like  to  do  it.  It  seemed  to  savor  of  traps, 
and  Peter  had  never  liked  traps.  Still — he  did  want  to 
know  if  the  managers  on  Porter's  side  would  stoop  to  buy 
his  support  by  some  bargain.  As  Peter  hesitated,  weigh- 
ing the  pros  and  cons,  Maguire  spoke  again. 

"What  does  the  other  side  offer  you ?  " 

Peter  spoke  quickly.  "They  haven't  offered  me  any- 
thing, but  advice.  That  is,  Costell  said  he'd  try  and  help 

me  on  some  legislation  I  want " 

8 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Special  ?  "  interrupted  Maguire. 

"No.  General.  I've  talked  about  it  with  Porter  as 
well." 

"Oh!     Indeed?" 

"I'm  really  anxious  to  get  that.  Otherwise  I  want 
nothing." 

"Whew, "said  the  Senator  to  himself.  "That  was  a 
narrow  squeak.  If  he  hadn't  spoken  so  quickly,  I  should 
have  shown  my  hand  before  the  call.  I  wonder  if  he  got 
any  inkling  ? "  He  never  dreamed  that  Peter  had  spoken 
quickly  to  save  that  very  disclosure. 

"  I  needn't  say,  Mr.  Stirling,  that  if  you  can  see  your 
way  to  nominate  Porter,  we  shall  not  forget  it.  Nor  will 
he.  He  isn't  the  kind  of  man  who  forgets  his  friends. 
Many  a  man  in  to-morrow's  convention  would  give  any- 
thing for  the  privilege  we  offer  you." 

"Well,"  said  Peter.  "  I  realize  the  honor  offered  me, 
but  I  don't  see  my  way  to  take  it.  It  will  please  me  bet- 
ter to  see  him  nominated  by  some  one  who  has  really 
stood  close  to  him,  than  to  gain  his  favor  by  doing  it 
myself." 

"Think  twice,  Mr.  Stirling." 

"If  you  would  rather,  I  will  not  give  you  my  answer 
till  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"I  would,"  said  Maguire  rising.  "Try  and  make  it 
favorable.  It's  a  great  chance  to  do  good  for  yourself  and 
for  your  side.  Good-night." 

Peter  closed  his  door,  and  looked  about  for  a  bit  of 
blank  wall.  But  on  second  thought  he  sat  down  on  his 
window-sill,  and,  filling  his  pipe,  tried  to  draw  conclu- 
sions as  well  as  smoke  from  it. 

"I  wonder,"  he  pondered  to  himself,  "how  much  of 
that  was  Maguire,  and  how  much  Porter?  Ought  I,  for 
the  sake  of  doing  my  best  for  my  ward,  to  have  let  him 
go  on  ?  Has  an  agent  any  right  to  refuse  what  will  help 
his  client,  even  if  it  comes  by  setting  pitfalls  ?  " 

Rap,  rap,  rap. 

"Come  in,"  called  Peter,  forgetting  he  had  turned 
down  his  light. 

The  door  opened  and  Mr.  Costell  came  in.  "  Having 
a  quiet  smoke  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes.  I  haven't  a  cigar  to  offer  you.  Can  you  join 
me  in  a  pipe  ? " 


POLITICS.  xig 

"I  haven't  come  to  that  yet.  Suppose  you  try  one  of 
my  cigars."  Costell  sat  down  on  the  window-ledge  by 
Peter. 

" Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  "I  like  a  cigar,  but  it  must 
be  a  good  one,  and  that  kind  I  can't  afford"  He  lit  the 
cigar,  and  leaned  back  to  luxuriate  in  it. 

"You'll  like  that,  Pm  sure.  Pretty  sight,  isn't  it?" 
Costell  pointed  to  the  broad  veranda,  three  stories  below 
them,  gay  with  brilliant  dresses. 

"  Yes.     It's  my  first  visit  here,  so  it's  new  to  me." 

"  It  won't  be  your  last.  You'll  be  attending  other  con- 
ventions than  this." 

"I  hope  so." 

"  One  of  my  scouts  tells  me  you've  had  a  call  from  Ma- 
guire  ?  " 

"Yes."  Peter  hesitated  a  moment.  "He  wants  m% 
to  nominate  Porter/'  he  continued,  as  soon  as  he  had  de- 
cided that  plain  speaking  was  fair  to  Maguire. 

"  We  shall  be  very  sorry  to  see  you  do  it." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall.     They  only  want  me  because  it 
would  give  the  impression  that  Porter  has  a  city  backing, 
and  to  try  to  give  that  amounts  to  a  deception." 
'  Can  they  get  Schlurger  or  Kennedy  ?  " 
'  Schlurger  is  safe.     I  don't  know  about  Kennedy." 
'  Can  you  find  out  for  us  ?  " 
'  Yes.     When  would  you  like  to  know  ?  " 
'Can  you  see  him  now  ?     I'll  wait  here." 

Peter  rose,  looking  at  his  cigar  with  a  suggestion  of  re- 
gret. But  he  rubbed  out  the  light,  and  left  the  room.  At 
the  office,  he  learned  the  number  of  Kennedy's  room,  and 
went  to  it.  On  knocking,  the  door  was  opened  only  a 
narrow  crack. 

"Oh  !  it's  you,"  said  Kennedy.      "Come  in." 

Peter  entered,  and  found  Maguire  seated  in  an  easy  at- 
titude on  a  lounge.  He  noticed  that  his  thumbs  were 
once  more  tucked  into  his  waistcoat. 

"Mr.  Kennedy,"  said  Peter  without  seating  himself 
"there  is  an  attempt  being  made  to  get  a  city  delegate  to 
nominate  Porter.  It  seems  to  me  that  is  his  particular 
friends'  business." 

Maguire  spoke  so  quickly  that  Kennedy  had  no  chancy 
to  reply  :  "  Kennedy's  promised  to  nominate  him,  Dfe 
Stirling,  if  you  won't. " 


Sl6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING* 

"Do  you  feel  that  you  are  bound  to  do  it?"  asked 
Peter. 

Kennedy  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair.  "  Yes,  I  suppose 
I  have  promised." 

"  Will  you  release  Mr.  Kennedy  from  his  promise  if  he 
asks  it  ?  "  Peter  queried  to  Maguire. 

"Why,  Mr.  Stirling,  I  don't  think  either  he  or  you 
ought  to  ask  it." 

44  That  was  not  my  question." 

It  was  the  Senator's  turn  to  squirm.  He  did  not  want 
to  say  no,  for  fear  of  angering  Peter,  yet  he  did  not  like 
to  surrender  the  advantage.  Finally  he  said  :  "Yes,  I'll 
release  him,  but  Mr.  Kennedy  isn't  the  kind  of  a  man 
that  cries  off  from  a  promise.  That's  women's  work. " 

" No,"  said  Kennedy  stiffening  suddenly  in  backbone, 
as  he  saw  the  outlet  ope  ed  by  Maguire,  between  antag- 
onizing Peter,  and  retracting  his  consent.  "  I  don't  play 
baby.  Not  me." 

Peter  stood  thinking  for  a  longer  time  than  the  others 
found  comfortable.  Maguire  whistled  to  prove  that  he 
was  quite  at  ease,  but  he  would  not  have  whistled  if  he 
had  been. 

"I  think,  Mr.  Kennedy,  that  I'll  save  you  from  the 
difficulty  by  nominating  Mr.  Porter  myself,"  said  Peter 
finally, 

"Good !  "  said  Maguire ;  and  Kennedy,  reaching  down 
into  his  hip  pocket,  produced  a  version  of  the  holy  text 
not  yet  included  in  any  bibliography.  Evidently  the 
atmosphere  was  easier.  "About  your  speech,  Mr.  Stir- 
ling?'* continued  the  Senator. 

"  I  shall  say  what  I  think  right." 

Something  in  Peter's  voice  made  Maguire  say:  "It 
Will  be  of  the  usual  kind,  of  course  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Peter,  "  I  shall  tell  the  facts." 

"What  sort  of  facts?  " 

"  I  shall  tell  how  it  is  that  a  delegate  of  the  sixth  ward 
nominates  Porter." 

"And  that  is?" 

"I  don't  see,"  said  Peter,  "why  I  need  say  it  You 
fenow  it  as  well  as  I  do. " 

"  I  know  of  many  reasons  why  you  should  do  it." 

" No, "  said  Peter.  "There's  only  one,  and  that  has 
been  created  in  the  last  ten  minutes.  Mr.  Maguire,  if 


POLITICS.  117 

you  insist  on  the  sixth  ward  nominating  Mr.  Porter,  the 
sixth  ward  is  going  to  tell  why  it  does  so.  I'm  sorry,  for 
I  like  Porter,  but  the  sixth  ward  shan't  lend  itself  to  a 
fraud,  if  I  can  help  it  '*' 

Kennedy  had  been  combining  things  spiritual  and 
aqueous  at  his  wash-stand.  But  his  interest  in  the  blend- 
ing seemed  suddenly  to  cease.  Maguire,  too,  took  his 
thumbs  from  their  havens  of  rest,  and  looked  dissatis- 
fied. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Stirling,"  he  said,  "it's  much  simpler 
to  leave  it  to  Kennedy.  You  think  you're  doing  what's 
right,  but  you'll  only  do  harm  to  us,  and  to  yourself.  If 
you  nominate  Porter,  the  city  gang  won't  forgive  you, 
and  unless  you  can  say  what  we  want  said,  we  shall  be 
down  on  you.  So  you'll  break  with  both  sides." 

"I  think  that  is  so.  That  is  why  I  want  some  real 
friend  of  Porter's  to  do  it." 

Maguire  laughed  rather  a  forced  laugh.  "I  suppose 
we've  got  to  satisfy  you.  We'll  have  Porter  nominated 
by  one  of  our  own  crowd." 

"  I  think  that's  best.  Good-evening."  Peter  went  to 
the  door. 

"Mr.  Stirling,  called  Kennedy.  "Won't  you  stay 
and  take  some  whisky  and  water  with  us  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  "  Mr.  Costell's  in  my  room 
and  he  must  be  tired  of  waiting."  He  closed  the  door, 
and  walked  awa; . 

The  couple  looked  at  each  other  blankly  for  a  moment 

"  The cuss  is  playing  a  double  game,"  Maguire 

gasped. 

"I  don't  know  what  it  means  !  "  said  Kennedy. 

"Mean?"  cried  Maguire.  "It  can  mean  only  one 
thing.  He's  acting  undei  Costell's  orders." 

"  But  why  should  he  give  it  away  to  us  ?  " 

"  How  the should  I  know  ?  Look  here,  Kennedy, 

you  must  do  it,  after  all." 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"Tut,  tut,  man,  you  must" 

"  But  my  ward  ?  " 

"Come.  We'll  make  it  quarantine,  as  you  want 
That's  six  years,  and  you  can your  ward. 

"I'll  do  it." 

"That's  the  talk." 


|i8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

They  sat  and  discussed  plans  and  whisky  for  nearly  an 
hour.  Then  Maguire  said  good-night. 

"  You  shall  have  the  speech  the  first  thing  in  the  morn* 
ing,"  he  said  at  parting.  Then  as  he  walked  down  the 
long  corridor,  he  muttered,  "Now  then,  Stirling,  look  out 
for  the  hind  heel  of  the  mule." 

Peter  found  Costell  still  waiting  for  him. 

"  It  took  me  longer  than  I  thought,  for  Maguire  was 
there." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Costell,  making  room  for  Peter  on  the 
window-ledge. 

Peter  re-lit  his  cigar.  "Maguire  promises  me  that 
Porter  shall  be  nominated  by  one  of  his  friends/' 

"  He  had  been  trying  Kennedy  ?  "     . 

"I  didn't  ask." 

Costell  smiled.      "  I  had  no  business  to  ask  you  that  ?  * 

"  No,"  Peter  said  frankly. 

Both  puffed  their  cigars  for  a  time  in  silence. 

Then  Costell  began  talking  about  Saratoga.  He  told 
Peter  where  the  "Congress"  spring  was,  and  what  was 
worth  seeing.  Finally  he  rose  to  go.  He  held  out  his 
hand,  and  said  : 

"Mr.  Stirling,  you've  been  as  true  as  steel  with  us,  and 
with  the  other  men.  I  don't  want  you  to  suppose  we  are 
not  conscious  of  it.  I  think  you've  done  us  a  great  serv- 
ice to-night,  although  it  might  have  been  very  profitable 
to  you  if  you  had  done  otherwise.  I  don't  think  that 
you'll  lose  by  it  in  the  long  run,  but  I'm  going  to  thank 
you  now,  for  myself.  Good-night." 

Peter  had  a  good  night  Perhaps  it  was  only  because 
he  was  sleepy,  but  a  pleasant  speech  is  not  a  bad  night- 
cap. At  least  it  is  better  than  a  mental  question-mark  as 
to  whether  one  has  done  wrong.  Peter  did  not  know  how 
it  was  coming  out,  but  he  thought  he  had  done  right,  and 
need  not  spend  time  on  a  blank  wall  that  evening. 


THE  CONVENTION. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 
THE  CONVENTION. 

THOUGH  Peter  had  not  gone  to  bed  so  early  as  he  hoped, 
he  was  up  the  next  morning,  and  had  tramped  hi3 
eight  miles  through  and  around  Saratoga,  before  the  place 
gave  many  evidences  of  life.  He  ended  his  tramp  at  the 
Congress  spring,  and  tasted  the  famous  water,  with  ex- 
ceeding disgust  at  the  result.  As  he  set  down  his  half- 
finished  tumbler,  and  turned  to  leave,  he  found  Miss  De 
Voe  at  his  elbow,  about  to  take  her  morning  glass. 

"This  is  a  very  pleasant  surprise,"  she  said,  holding 
out  her  hand.  "  When  did  you  arrive?  " 

"I  only  came  last  night." 

"And  how  long  shall  you  be  here  ?  " 

"I  cannot  say.  I  am  attending  the  convention,  and 
my  stay  will  depend  on  that." 

"Surely  you  are  not  a  Democrat  ? "  said  Miss  De  Voe,  a 
shade  of  horror  showing  itself  in  her  face,  in  spite  of  her 
good  breeding.  In  those  days  it  was  not,  to  put  it  mildly, 
a  guarantee  of  respectability  to  belong  to  that  party> 
and  Miss  De  Voe  had  the  strong  prejudices  of  her  social 
station,  all  the  more  because  she  was  absolutely  ignorant 
of  political  events. 

Peter  said  he  was. 

"How  can  you  be?  When  a  man  can  ally  himself 
with  the  best,  why  should  he  choose  the  worst  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Peter  quietly,  "  that  a  Pharisee  said  the 
same  thing,  in  different  words,  many  hundred  years 
ago. " 

Miss  De  Voe  caught  her  breath  and  flushed.  She  also 
became  suddenly  conscious  of  the  two  girls  who  had 
come  to  the  spring  with  her.  They  had  been  forgotten 
in  the  surprise  over  Peter,  but  now  Miss  De  Voe  won- 
dered if  they  had  heard  his  reply,  and  if  they  had  enough 
Bible  lore  to  enable  them  to  understand  the  reproof. 

"  I  am  sure  you  don't  mean  that,"  she  said,  in  the  sting 
of  the  moment 


120  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Peter,  "if  I  made  an  unkind 
speech.  What  I  meant  was  that  no  one  has  a  right  to 
pick  out  the  best  for  himself.  I  am  sure,  from  your  letter 
to  me,  that  you  think  a  man  should  help  those  not  as 
well  off  as  himself." 

"Oh,  but  that  is  very  different.  Of  course  we  should 
be  charitable  to  those  who  need  our  help,  but  we  need  not 
mix  in  their  low  politics." 

"If  good  laws,  and  good  administration  can  give  the 
poor  good  food,  and  good  lodgings,  don't  you  think  the 
best  chanty  is  to  'mix'  in  politics,  and  try  to  obtain 
such  results  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  know  my  two  cousins,"  Miss  De  Voe 
replied.  "  Dorothy,  I  wish  to  present  Mr.  Stirling.  My 
cousin,  Miss  Ogden,  and  Miss  Minna  Ogden." 

Peter  saw  two  very  pretty  girls,  and  made  a  bow  to 
them. 

"Which  way  are  you  walking?"  asked  Miss  De  Voe. 

"  I  have  been  tramping  merely  for  exercise, "  said  Peter, 
"and  stopped  here  to  try  the  spring,  on  my  way  to  the 
United  States." 

"It  is  hardly  worth  while,  but  if  you  will  get  into  our 
carriage,  we  will  drop  you  there.  Or  if  you  can  spare 
the  time,  we  will  drive  to  our  cottage,  and  then  send  you 
back  to  the  hot  el." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter,  "but  I  shall  only  crowd 
you,  I  fear." 

"  No.     There  is  plenty  of  room. " 

"Will  the  convention  be  interesting  to  watch,  Mr.  Stir- 
ling ? "  asked  one  of  the  girls,  as  soon  as  they  were 
seated. 

"I  don't  know,"  Peter  told  her.  "It  is  my  first  ex- 
perience at  it.  There  is  pretty  strong  feeling,  and  that  of 
course  makes  it  interesting  to  the  delegates,  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  would  be  so  to  others." 

"Will  there  be  speeches,  and  cheers,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing?" 

"Yes." 

"Cousin  Anneke,  won't  you  take  us?  It  will  be 
such  fun  !  " 

"Are  spectators  admitted,  Mr.  Stirling?" 

"  I  believe  so.  I  heard  something  about  tickets  last 
night  If  you  care  to  go,  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  you  some?  * 


THE  CONVENTION.  12 1 

"Oh,  please,"  cried  both  girls. 

"If  you  can  do  so,  Mr.  Stirling,  we  should  like  to  see 
the  interesting  part,"  said  Miss  De  Voe. 

" I'll  try." 

"Send  word  back  by  Oliver."  The  carriage  had  drawn 
up  at  the  cottage,  and  farewells  were  made. 

As  soon  as  Peter  reached  the  hotel,  he  went  to  the  New 
York  City  delegation  room,  and  saw  Costell.  He  easily 
secured  admissions,  and  pencilling  on  a  card,  "At  head- 
quarters they  tell  me  that  the  nominations  will  begin  at 
the  afternoon  session,  about  two  o'clock,"  he  sent  them 
back  by  the  carriage.  Then  bearding  the  terrors  of  the 
colored  "monarch  of  all  he  surveys,"  who  guards  the 
dining-room  of  every  well-ordered  Saratoga  hotel,  he 
satisfied  as  large  an  appetite  as  he  remembered  in  a  long 
time. 

The  morning  proceedings  in  the  convention  were  purely 
formal.  The  election  of  the  chairman,  the  roll-call,  the 
naming  of  the  committees,  and  other  routine  matter  was 
gotten  through  with,  but  the  real  interest  centred 
in  the  undertone  of  political  talk,  going  on  with  little  re- 
gard to  the  business  in  hand.  After  the  committees  were 
named,  an  unknown  man  came  up  to  Peter,  and  intro- 
duced himself  by  a  name  which  Peter  at  once  recognized 
as  that  of  one  of  the  committee  on  the  platform. 

"Mr.  Costell  thinks  you  might  like  to  see  this,  and 
can  perhaps  suggest  a  change,"  explained  Mr.  Talcott, 
laying  several  sheets  of  manuscript  on  Peter's  desk  and 
indicating  with  his  finger  a  certain  paragraph. 

Peter  read  it  twice  before  saying  anything.  "I  think 
I  can  better  it,"  he  said.  "If  you  can  give  me  time 
I'm  very  slow  about  such  things." 

"All  right.  Get  it  in  shape  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
send  it  to  the  committee-room." 

Left  alone  Peter  looked  round  for  a  blank  wall.  Fail- 
ing in  his  search,  he  put  his  head  into  his  hands,  and 
tried  to  shut  out  the  seething,  excited  mass  of  men  about 
him.  After  a  time  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper  and  wrote  a 
paragraph  for  the  platform.  It  pledged  the  party  to  in- 
vestigate the  food  and  tenement  questions,  and  to  pass 
such  remedial  legislation  as  should  seem  best.  It  pledged 
the  party  to  do  this,  with  as  little  disturbance  and  inter- 
ference with  present  conditions  as  possible,  "but  fully 


122  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

recognizing'  the  danger  of  State  interference,  we  place 
human  life  above  money  profits,  and  human  health  above 
annual  incomes,  and  shall  use  the  law  to  its  utmost  to 
protect  both."  When  it  appeared  in  the  platform,  there 
was  an  addition  that  charged  the  failure  to  obtain 
legislation  "which  should  have  rendered  impossible  the 
recent  terrible  lesson  in  New  York  City"  to  "'the  obstruc- 
tion in  the  last  legislature  in  the  interest  of  the  moneyed 
classes  and  landlords,  by  the  Republican  party/'  That 
had  not  been  in  Peter's  draft  and  he  was  sorry  to  see  it 
Still,  the  paragraph  had  a  real  ring  of  honesty  and  feeling 
in  it.  That  was  what  others  thought  too.  "  Gad,  that 
Stirling  knows  how  to  sling  English,"  said  one  of  the 
committee,  when  the  paragraph  was  read  aloud.  "  He 
makes  it  take  right  hold."  Many  an  orator  in  that  fall's 
campaign  read  the  nineteenth  section  of  the  Democratic 
platform  aloud,  feeling  that  it  was  ammunition  of  the 
right  kind.  It  is  in  all  the  New  York  papers  of  September 
24th,  of  that  year. 

Immediately  after  the  morning  adjournment,  Green 
came  up  to  Peter. 

"We've  had  a  count,  and  can't  carry  Catlin.  So  we 
shan't  even  put  him  up.  What  do  you  think  of  Milton  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  him  personally,  but  he  has  a  very  good 
record,  I  believe." 

"  He  isn't  what  we  want,  but  that's  not  the  question. 
We  must  take  what  we  can  get." 

"I  suppose  you  think  Porter  has  a  chance." 

"  Not  if  we  take  Milton." 

"Between  the  two  I  have  no  choice." 

An  hour  later,  the  convention  was  called  to  order  by 
the  chairman.  A  few  moments  sufficed  to  complete  the 
unfinished  business,  and  then  the  chairman's  gavel  fell, 
and  every  one  knew  without  his  announcement  that  the 
crucial  moment  had  been  reached. 

Much  to  Peter's  surprise,  Kennedy  was  one  of  the 
members  who  was  instantly  on  his  feet,  and  was  the  one 
selected  for  recognition  by  the  chairman.  He  was  still 
more  surprised  when  Kennedy  launched  at  once  into 
a  glowing  eulogium  of  Porter.  Peter  was  sitting  next 
Kennedy,  and  though  he  sat  quietly,  a  sad  look  came  into 
the  face  usually  so  expressionless.  He  felt  wronged 
He  felt  that  he  had  been  an  instrument  in  the  deceiving 


THE  CONVENTION.  123 

of  others.  Most  of  all  he  grieved  to  think  that  a  delegate 
of  his  ward,  largely  through  his  own  interference,  was 
acting  discreditably.  Peter  wanted  others  to  do  right, 
and  he  felt  that  that  was  not  what  Kennedy  was  doing. 

The  moment  Kennedy  finished,  Peter  rose,  as  did 
Maguire.  The  convention  was  cheering  for  Porter,  and 
it  took  some  time  to  quiet  it  to  a  condition  when  it  was 
worth  while  recognizing  any  one.  During  this  time  the 
chairman  leaned  forward  and  talked  with  Green,  who  sat 
right  below  him,  for  a  moment.  Green  in  turn  spoke  to 
Costell,  and  a  little  slip  of  paper  was  presently  handed  up 
to  the  chairman,  who  from  that  moment  became  absolutely 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  Maguire  was  on  his  feet.  When 
silence  finally  came,  in  spite  of  Maguire's,  "Mr.  Chair- 
man," that  individual  said,  "Mr.  Stirling/' 

Peter  began  in  a  low  voice,  "In  rising,  Mr.  Chairman, 
to  second  the  nomination  of  Mr.  Porter,  I  feel  that  it  would 
be  idle  in  me  to  praise  one  so  well  known  to  all  of  us, 
even  if  he  had  not  just  been  the  subject  of  so  appreciative 
a  speech  from  my  colleague " 

Here  cries  of  "  louder"  interrupted  Peter,  during  which 
interruption  Green  said  to  Costell,  "  We've  been  tricked." 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  replied  Costell,  "Maguire's  on  his 
feet  yet,  and  doesn't  look  happy.  Something's  happening 
which  has  not  been  slated." 

When  Peter  resumed,  there  were  no  more  cries  of 
"  louder."  His  introduction  had  been  a  matter  of  trouble 
and  doubt  to  him,  for  he  liked  Porter,  and  feared  he 
might  not  show  it.  But  now  he  merely  had  something  to 
tell  his  audience,  and  that  was  easy  work.  So,  his  voice 
ringing  very  clear  and  distinct,  he  told  them  of  the  original 
election  of  the  delegates  ;  of  the  feeling  of  his  ward  ;  of 
the  attempts  to  obtain  a  city  nomination  of  Porter  ;  of 
Maguire's  promise.  "Gad,  he  hits  from  the  shoulder," 
said  Green.  As  soon  as  the  trend  of  his  remarks  was 
realized,  Porter's  supporters  began  to  hiss  and  hoot. 
Peter  at  once  stopped,  but  the  moment  silence  came  he 
began  again,  and  after  a  repetition  of  this  a  few  times, 
they  saw  they  could  neither  embarrass  nor  anger  him,  so 
they  let  him  have  his  say.  He  brought  his  speech  to  an 
end  by  saying  : 

"I  have  already  expressed  my  admiration  of  Mr.  Porter, 
and  as  soon  as  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  vote  for  him, 


124  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

I  made  no  secret  of  that  intention.  But  he  should  not 
have  been  nominated  by  a  city  delegate,  for  he  is  not  the 
choice  of  New  York  City,  and  any  attempt  to  show  that 
he  is,  or  that  he  has  any  true  backing  there,  is  only  an 
attempt  to  deceive.  In  seconding  his  nomination  there- 
fore, I  wish  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  both  his 
nomination  and  seconding  are  personal  acts,  and  in  no 
sense  the  act  of  the  delegates  of  the  city  of  New  York." 

There  was  a  mingling  of  hoots  and  cheers  as  Peter  sat 
down,  though  neither  was  very  strong.  In  truth,  the 
larger  part  of  the  delegates  were  very  much  in  the  dark 
as  to  the  tendency  of  Peter's  speech.  "  Was  it  friendly 
or  unfriendly  to  Porter  ?  "  they  wondered. 

"Mr.  Maguire/'  said  the  chairman. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  the  gentleman  who  has  just  sat 
down  is  to  be  complimented  on  his  speech.  In  my  whole 
life  I  have  never  heard  so  deceptive  and  blinding  a  nar- 
ration. We  know  of  Brutus  stabbing  his  friend.  But 
what  shall  we  say  of  a  pretended  Brutus  who  caresses 
while  he  stabs  ?  " 

Here  the  Porter  adherents  became  absolutely  sure  of 
the  character  of  Peter's  speech,  and  hissed. 

"  Nor  is  it  Imperial  Caesar  alone,"  continued  Maguire, 
"against whom  he  turns  his  poniard.  Not  content  with 
one  foul  murder,  he  turns  against  Caesar's  friends.  By 
devilish  innuendo,  he  charges  the  honorable  Mr.  Kennedy 
and  myself  with  bargaining  to  deceive  the  American 
people.  I  call  on  him  for  proof  or  retraction." 

The  convention  laughed.  Peter  rose  and  said  :  "Mr. 
Chairman,  I  gave  a  truthful  account  of  what  actually 
took  place  last  evening  in  the  United  States  hotel.  I 
made  no  charges." 

"  But  you  left  the  impression  that  Mr.  Kennedy  and  I 
had  made  a  deal, "shrieked  Maguire. 

"  If  the  gentleman  draws  that  conclusion  from  what 
passed,  it  is  not  my  fault." 

The  convention  laughed.  "Do  you  mean  to  charge 
such  a  bargain  ?  "  angrily  shouted  Maguire. 

"Will  you  deny  it?"  asked  Peter  calmly. 

"  Then  you  do  charge  it  ?  " 

Here  the  convention  laughed  for  the  third  time.  Green 
shouted  "deny  it,"  and  the  cry  was  taken  up  by  many 
of  the  delegates, 


THE  CONVENTION.  125 

"  Yes,"  screamed  Maguire.      " I  do  deny  it." 

Peter  turned  to  Kennedy.      "  Do  you  too,  deny  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  shouted  Kennedy,  loudly. 

Again  the  convention  laughed. 

"Then,"  said  Peter,  "if  I  had  charged  you  with  a  bar- 
gain, I  should  now  find  it  necessary  to  apologize." 

The  convention  roared.  Maguire  scream ed  something, 
but  it  could  not  be  heard.  The  tenor  of  his  remarks  was 
indicated  by  his  red  face  and  clinched  fist. 

Costell  smiled  his  deep  smile.  "I'm  very  glad,"  he 
said  to  the  man  next  him,  ' '  that  we  didn't  pick  Stirling  up. " 

Then  Milton  was  nominated  and  seconded,  as  were 
also  Catlin,  and  four  minor  stars.  That  done,  a  ballot 
was  taken  and  the  vote  stood  : 

Porter 206 

Milton 197 

Catlin 52 

Scattering • 29 

A  second  ballot  showed  : 

Porter. 206 

Milton 202 

Catlin 54 

Scattering 22 

A  third  ballot  gave  : 

Porter 206 

Milton 210 

Catlin 52 

Scattering 16 

"  Porter's  done  for  on  the  next,"  was  whispered  round 
the  hall,  though  where  it  started,  no  one  knew.  Evi- 
dently his  adherents  thought  so,  for  one  made  a  motion 
to  adjourn.  It  was  voted  down,  and  once  more  the  roll 
call  started. 

"I  shall  vote  for  Milton,"  Peter  told  Schlurger,  and  the 
changes  in  the  delegations  as  the  call  proceeded,  proved 
that  many  changes  were  being  made  the  same  way.  Yet 
the  fourth  ballot  showed  : 

Porter 125 

Milton 128 

Catlin , 208 

Scattering 14 


126  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

The  wildest  excitement  broke  out  in  the  Porter  delegates, 
"  They've  beaten  us,"  screamed  Kennedy,  as  much  to 
himself  as  to  those  about.  "They've  used  Milton  to 
break  our  ranks,  meaning  Catlin  all  the  time."  So  in 
truth,  it  was.  Milton  had  been  put  up  to  draw  off 
Porter's  delegates,  but  the  moment  they  had  begun  to 
turn  to  Milton,  enough  New  York  City  delegates  had  been 
transferred  to  Catlin  to  prevent  Milton  being  chosen. 
Amid  protests  and  angry  words  on  all  sides  another 
ballot  was  taken  : 

Catlin 256 

Porter 1 18 

Milton no 

Before  the  result  was  announced,  Green  was  at  Peter's 
elbow. 

"  Will  you  move  to  make  it  unanimous  ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes."  And  Peter  made  the  formal  motion,  which 
was  carried  by  acclamation.  Half  an  hour  served  to 
choose  the  Lieutenant-Governor  and  the  rest  of  the  ticket, 
for  the  bulk  of  it  had  already  been  slated.  The  platform 
was  adopted,  and  the  convention  dissolved. 

"Well,"  said  Kennedy  angrily  to  Peter,  "  I  guess  you've 
messed  it  this  time.  A  man  can't  please  both  sides,  but 
he  needn't  get  cussed  by  both." 

Peter  went  out  and  walked  to  his  hotel.  "I'm  afraid  I 
did  mess  it,"  he  thought,  "yet  I  don't  see  what  else  I 
could  have  done." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
MISUNDERSTANDINGS  AND  UNDERSTANDINGS. 

"DiD  you  understand  what  it  all  meant,  Cousin  An- 
neke  ? "  asked  Dorothy,  as  they  were  coming  down- 
stairs. 

"  No.  The  man  who  got  so  angry  seemed  to  think 
Mr.  Stirling  had " 

She  stopped  short.  A  group  of  men  on  the  sidewalk 
were  talking,  and  she  paused  to  hear  one  say  : 

"  To  see  that  young  chap  Stirling  handling  Maguire 
was  an  eye-opener." 


MISUNDERSTANDINGS  AND  UNDERSTANDINGS. 


127 


Another  man  laughed,  rather  a  deep,  quiet  laugh. 
"  Maguire  understands  everything  but  honesty,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  always  beat  him  with  that." 

Miss  De  Voe  would  have  like  to  stay  and  listen,  but 
there  were  too  many  men.  So  the  ladies  entered  the  car- 
riage. 

"  At  least  we  know  that  he  said  he  was  trying  to  tell 
the  truth,"  she  went  on,  "and  you  just  heard  what  that 
man  said.  I  don't  know  why  they  all  laughed." 

"  He  didn't  seem  to  mind  a  bit." 

"  No.  Hasn't  he  a  funny  half-embarrassed,  half-cool 
manner  ?  *' 

"  He  wasn't  embarrassed  after  he  was  fairly  speaking. 
You  know  he  was  really  fine-looking,  when  he  spoke." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorothy.  "  You  said  he  had  a  dull,  heavy 
face." 

"  That  was  the  first  time  I  saw  him,  Dorothy.  It's  a 
face  which  varies  very  much.  Oliver,  drive  to  the  United 
States.  We  will  take  him  home  to  dinner." 

"  Oh,  good,"  cried  the  youngest.  "  Then  he  will  tell 
us  why  they  laughed. " 

As  they  drove  up  to  the  hotel,  Peter  had  just  reached 
the  steps.  He  turned  to  the  carriage,  the  moment  he 
saw  that  they  wanted  him. 

"  We  wish  to  carry  you  off  to  a  simple  country  din- 
ner," Miss  De  Voe  told  him. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  the  special  to  New  York,  and  that 
leaves  in  half  an  hour." 

"Take  a  later  train." 

"  My  ticket  wouldn't  be  good  on  it." 

Most  men  Miss  DeVoe  would  have  snubbed  on  the 
spot,  but  to  Peter  she  said  :  "  Then  get  another  ticket." 

"  I  don't  care  to  do  that,"  said  Peter. 

"Oh,  please,  Mr.  Stirling,"  said  Minna.  "  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  lot  of  questions  about  the  convention." 

"  Hush,  Minna,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  She  was  nettled 
that  Peter  should  refuse,  and  that  her  niece  could  stoop  to 
beg  of  "  a  criminal  lawyer  and  ward  politician, "  as  she  put 
it  mentally.  But  she  was  determined  not  to  show  it. 
*'  We  are  sorry.  Good-evening.  Home,  Oliver." 

So  they  did  not  learn  from  Peter  why  the  convention 
laughed.  The  subject  was  brought  up  at  dinner,  and 
Dorothy  asked  the  opinion  of  the  voters  of  the  family. 


128  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Probably  he  had  made  a  fluke  of  some  kind,"  one 
said. 

"  M.ore  probably  he  had  out-sharped  the  other  side," 
suggested  a  second. 

"  It  will  be  in  the  papers  to-morrow/'  said  the  first  sug- 
gestor. 

The  three  women  looked  in  the  next  day's  papers,  but 
,  the  reporters  were  as  much  at  sea  in  regard  to  the  Stirling- 
sixth-^vard  incident,  as  had  been  the  rank-and-file  in  the 
convention.  Three  took  their  views  from  Maguire,  and 
called  it  "  shameful  treason,"  and  the  like.  Two  called 
it  ft  unprincipled  and  contradictory  conduct."  One  alone 
said  that  "  Mr.  Stirling  seemed  to  be  acting  conscien- 
tiously, if  erratically."  Just  what  effect  it  had  had  on 
the  candidates  none  of  the  papers  agreed  in.  One  said 
it  had  killed  Porter.  Another,  that  "  it  was  a  purely 
personal  matter  without  influence  on  the  main  question/ 
The  other  papers  shaded  between  these,  though  two 
called  it  "  a  laughable  incident."  The  opposition  press 
naturally  saw  in  it  an  entire  discrediting  of  both  factions 
of  the  Democratic  party,  and  absolute  proof  that  the 
nominee  finally  selected  was  unfit  for  office. 

Unable  to  sift  out  the  truth,  the  ladies  again  appealed  to 
the  voters  of  the  family. 

"  Oh,"  said  one,  "  Stirling  did  something  tricky  and 
was  caught  in  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Miss  De  Voe. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Dorothy. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  make  your  political  heeler  an 
angel,  I  have  no  objection,"  laughed  the  enfranchised 
being. 

"  I  don't  think  a  man  who  made  that  speech  about  the 
children  can  be  a  scoundrel,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  I  don't  either,"  said  Minna. 

"  That's  the  way  you  women  reason,"  responded  he  of 
the  masculine  intellect.  "Because  a  man  looks  out  for 
some  sick  kittens,  ergo,  he  is  a  political  saint.  If  you 
must  take  up  with  politicians,  do  take  Republicans,  for 
then,  at  least,  you  have  a  small  percentage  of  chance  in 
your  favor  that  they  are  gentlemen." 

"  Don't  be  a  Pharisee,  Lispenard,"  said  Miss  De  Voe, 
utilizing  Peter's  rebuke. 

"Then    don't .  trouble     me    with  political    questions* 


MISUNDERSTANDINGS  AND  UNDERSTANDINGS.    129 

Politics  are  so  vulgar  in  this  country  that  no  gentleman 
keeps  up  with  them." 

Miss  De  Voe  and  the  two  girls  dropped  the  "vulgar" 
subject,  but  Miss  De  Voe  said  later  : 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  they  laughed  at?  " 

"  Do  ask  him — if  he  comes  to  call  on  you,  this  winter, 
Cousin  Anneke." 

"  No.  I  asked  him  once  and  he  did  not  come."  Miss 
De  Voe  paused  a  moment.  "I  shall  not  ask  him  again/' 
she  added. 

"  I  don't  think  he  intends  to  be  rude,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  No,"  responded  Miss  De  Voe.  "  I  don't  think  he 
knows  what  he  is  doing.  He  is  absolutely  without  our 
standards,  and  it  is  just  as  well  for  both  that  he  shouldn't 
call."  Woman-like,  Miss  De  Voe  forgot  that  she  had 
said  Peter  was  a  gentleman. 

If  Peter  had  found  himself  a  marked  man  in  the  trip 
up,  he  was  doubly  so  on  the  return  train.  He  sat  most 
of  the  time  by  himself,  pondering  on  what  had  hap- 
pened, but  he  could  not  be  unconscious  of  the  number 
of  people  to  whom  he  was  pointed  out.  He  was  con- 
scious too,  that  his  course  had  not  been  understood, 
and  that  many  of  those  who  looked  at  him  with  interest, 
did  so  without  approbation.  He  was  not  buoyed  up 
either,  by  a  sense  that  he  had  succeeded  in  doing  the  best. 
He  had  certainly  hurt  Porter,  and  had  made  enemies  of 
jMaguire  and  Kennedy.  Except  for  the  fact  that  he  had 
tried  to  do  right,  he  could  see  no  compensating  balance. 

Naturally  the  newspapers  the  next  morning  did  not 
cheer  him,  though  perhaps  he  cared  less  for  what  they 
said  than  he  ought.  He  sent  them,  good,  bad,  and 
indifferent,  to  his  mother,  writing  her  at  the  same  time  a 
long  letter,  telling  her  how  and  why  he  had  taken  this 
course.  He  wrote  also  a  long  letter  to  Porter,  explaining 
his  conduct.  Porter  had  already  been  told  that  Peter  was 
largely  responsible  for  his  defeat,  but  after  reading  Peter's 
letter,  he  wrote  him  a  very  kind  reply,  thanking  him  for 
his  support  and  for  his  letter.  "It  is  not  always  easy  to 
do  what  one  wants  in  politics,"  he  wrote,  "but  if  one  tries 
with  high  motives,  for  high  things,  even  defeat  loses  its 
bitterness.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  help  you,  in  your 
wished-for  reforms  as  greatly  as  I  hoped,  but  I  am  not  quite 
a  nonentity  in  politics  even  now,  and  if  at  any  time  you 
9 


130  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

think  my  aid  worth  the  asking,  do  not  hesitate  to  call  on 
me  for  it.  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you  at  my  house 
for  a  meal  or  a  night,  whether  you  come  on  political  mat- 
ters or  merely  for  a  chat." 

Peter  found  his  constituents  torn  with  dissensions 
over  his  and  Kennedy's  course  in  the  convention.  He 
did  not  answer  in  kind  the  blame  and  criticism  industri- 
ously sowed  by  Kennedy  ;  but  he  dropped  into  a  half-a- 
dozen  saloons  in  the  next  few  days,  and  told  "  the  b'ys  " 
a  pretty  full  history  of  the  "behind-the-scenes"  part. 

"I'm  afraid  I  made  mistakes,"  he  frankly  acknowl- 
edged, "  yet  even  now  I  don't  see  how  I  could  have  done 
differently.  I  certainly  thought  I  was  doing  right." 

"An'  so  yez  were,"  shouted  Dennis.  "An'  if  that 
dirty  beast  Kennedy  shows  his  dirty  face  inside  these 
doors,  it's  a  washin'  it  will  get  wid  the  drainin'  av  the 
beer-glasses.  We  wants  none  av  his  dirty  bargains 
here/' 

"I  don't  know  that  he  had  made  any  bargain/' said 
Peter. 

"But  we  do,"  shouted  one  of  the  men.  "It's  a  bar- 
gain he's  always  makin'." 

"Yes,"  said  Dennis.  "It's  Kennedy  looks  out  for  him- 
self, an'  we'll  let  him  do  it  next  time  all  by  himself."  It 
could  not  be  traced  to  its  origin,  but  in  less  than  a  week 
the  consensus  of  opinion  in  the  ward  was  that  :  "Ken- 
nedy voted  for  himself,  but  Stirling  for  us." 

The  ward,  too,  was  rather  proud  of  the  celebrity  it  had 
achieved.  The  papers  had  not  merely  paragraphed  Peter, 
and  the  peculiar  position  of  the  "  district"  in  the  conven- 
tion, but  they  had  begun  now  asking  questions  as  to  how 
the  ward  would  behave.  "Would  it  support  Catlin  ?  " 
"Was  it  true  that  the  ward  machine  had  split,  and 
intended  to  nominate  rival  tickets  ?  "  "  Had  one  faction 
made  a  deal  with  the  Republicans  ?  " 

"Begobs,"  said  Dennis,  "it's  the  leaders  an'  the 
papers  are  just  afther  discoverin'  there  is  a  sixth  ward,  an' 
it's  Misther  Stirling's  made  them  do  it. " 

The  chief  party  leaders  had  stayed  over  at  Saratoga,  but 
Peter  had  a  call  from  Costell  before  the  week  was  out. 

"The  papers  gave  it  to  you  rather  rough,"  Costell  said 
kindly,  "  but  they  didn't  understand  it  We  thought  you 
behaved  very  square." 


MISUNDERSTANDINGS  AND  UNDERSTANDINGS.    131 

"They  tell  me  I  did  Porter  harm." 

"  No.  It  was  Maguire  did  the  harm.  You  simply  told 
about  it.  Of  course  you  get  the  blame. " 

"  My  constituents  stand  by  me." 

"  How  do  they  like  Catlin  ?  " 

"I  think  they  are  entirely  satisfied.  I'm  afraid  they 
never  cared  much  who  got  it." 

"  I'm  told  Kennedy  is  growling,  and  running  amuck  ?  " 

"  He's  down  on  Catlin  and  me." 

"Well,  if  you  think  best,  we'll  placate  him  ?  But  Gal- 
lagher seemed  to  think  he  couldn't  do  much  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  he  has  much  of  a  following.  Even 
Moriarty,  who  was  his  strong  card,  has  gone  back  on  him." 

"Will  you  make  a  couple  of  speeches  for  us  in  this 
ward  ?  " 

"  If  you'll  let  me  say  what  I  want?  " 

"  You  can  support  us  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  we'll  leave  it  to  you.  Only  beware  of  making 
too  many  statements.  You'll  get  dates  and  places  from 
the  committee  as  soon  as  they  are  settled.  We  pay 
twenty-five  dollars  a  night.  If  you  hit  the  right  key,  we 
may  want  you  in  some  of  the  other  wards,  too." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk.  It's  what  I've  been  doing  to 
small  crowds  in  the  saloons." 

"So  I'm  told.  You'll  never  get  a  better  place.  Men 
listen  there,  as  they  never  will  at  a  mass-meeting/' 
Costell  rose.  "If  you  are  free  next  Sunday,  come  up  into 
Westchester  and  take  a  two  o'clock  dinner  with  me.  We 
won't  talk  politics,  but  you  shall  see  a  nice  little  woman, 
who's  good  enough  to  make  my  life  happier,  and  after 
we've  looked  over  my  stables,  I'll  bring  you  back  to  the 
city  behind  a  gray  mare  that  will  pass  about  anything 
there  is  on  the  road." 

So  Peter  had  a  half  day  in  the  country  and  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  He  looked  over  Mrs.  Costell's  flower-garden, 
in  which  she  spent  almost  her  whole  time,  and  chatted 
with  her  about  it.  He  saw  the  beautiful  stables,  and 
their  still  more  beautiful  occupants.  He  liked  the  couple 
very  much.  Both  were  simple  and  silent  people,  of 
little  culture,  but  it  seemed  to  Peter  that  the  atmosphere 
had  a  gentle,  homely  tone  that  was  very  pleasing.  As  he 
got  into  the  light  buggy,  he  said  to  Mrs.  Costell  : 


I32  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Til  get  the  seed  of  thai  mottled  gillyflower  from  my 
mother  as  soon  as  possible.  Perhaps  you'll  let  me  bring 
it  up  myself?" 

" Do,"  she  said.  "Come  again,  whether  you  get  the 
seed  or  not." 

After  they  had  started,  Mr.  Costell  said:  "I'm  glad 
you  asked  that.  Mrs.  Costell  doesn't  take  kindly  to  many 
of  the  men  who  are  in  politics  with  me,  but  she  liked  you, 
I  could  see." 

Peter  spoke  twice  in  the  next  week  in  small  halls  in  his 
ward.  He  had  good  audiences,  and  he  spoke  well,  if 
simply. 

* 'There  ain't  no  fireworks  in  his  stuff,"  said  the  ward 
satirist.  "  He  don't  unfurl  the  American  flag,  nor  talk 
about  liberty  and  the  constitution.  He  don't  even 
speak  of  us  as  noble  freemen.  He  talks  just  as  if  he 
thought  we  was  in  a  saloon.  A  feller  that  made  that 
speech  about  the  babies  ought  to  treat  us  to  something 
moving." 

That  was  what  many  of  the  ward  thought.  Still  they 
went  because  they  wanted  to  see  if  he  wouldn't  burst  out 
suddenly.  They  felt  that  Peter  had  unlimited  potential- 
ities in  the  way  of  eloquence  (for  eloquence  to  them 
meant  the  ability  to  move  the  emotions)  and  merely 
saved  his  powers.  Without  quite  knowing  it  they  found 
what  he  had  to  say  interesting.  He  brought  the  ques- 
tions at  issue  straight  back  to  elementary  forms.  He 
showed  just  how  each  paragraph  in  the  platform  would 
directly  affect,  not  the  state,  but  the  "district." 

"  He's  thoroughly  good,"  the  party  leaders  were 
told.  "If  he  would  abuse  the  other  side  a  little  more, 
and  stick  in  a  little  tinsel  and  calcium  light  he  would  be 
great." 

So  he  was  called  upon  to  speak  elsewhere  in  the  city. 
He  worked  at  one  of  the  polls  on  election  day,  and  was 
pleased  to  find  that  he  was  able  to  prevent  a  little  of  the 
"trading"  for  which  Kennedy  had  arranged.  His  ward 
went  Democratic,  as  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  but  by 
an  unusually  large  majority,  and  Peter  found  that  he  and 
Dennis  were  given  the  credit  for  it,  both  in  the  ward,  and 
at  headquarters.  Catlin  was  elected,  and  the  Assembly 
had  been  won.  So  Peter  felt  that  his  three  months'  work 
had  not  been  an  entire  failure.  The  proceeds  of  his 


VARIOUS  KINDS  OF  SOCIETY.  133 

Speeches  had  added  also  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
to  his  savings  bank  account,  and  one  hundred  more  to 
the  account  of  "  Peter  Stirling,  Trustee/' 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
VARIOUS  KINDS  OF  SOCIETY. 

PETER  spent  Christmas  with  his  mother,  and  found  her 
very  much  worried  over  his  "  salooning." 

"It's  first  steps,  Peter,  that  do  the  mischief/'  she  told 
him. 

"  But,  mother,  I  only  go  to  talk  with  the  men.  Not  to 
drink." 

"  You'll  come  to  that  later.  The  devil's  paths  always 
gtart  straight,  my  boy,  but  they  end  in  wickedness.  Prom- 
ise me  you  won't  go  any  more/' 

' 1 1  can't  do  that,  mother.  I  am  trying  to  help  the  men, 
and  you  ought  not  ask  me  to  stop  doing  what  may  aid 
others/' 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy  !  "  sobbed  the  mother. 

"  If  you  could  only  understand  it,  mother,  as  I  have 
come  to,  you  wouldn't  mind.  Here,  the  saloon  is  chiefly 
a  loafing  place  for  the  lazy  and  shiftless,  but  in  New  York, 
it'.sj£ery  different.  It's  the  poor  man's  club.  If  you  could 
see  thecTark,  cold,  foul-aired  tenements  where  they  live, 
and  then  the  bright,  warm,  cheerful  saloons,  that  are  open 
to  all,  you  would  see  that  it  isn't  the  drink  that  draws  the 
men.  I  even  wish  the  women  could  come.  The  bulk  of 
the  men  are  temperate,  and  only  take  a  glass  or  two  of 
beer  or  whisky,  to  pay  for  their  welcome.  They  really 
go  for  the  social  part,  and  sit  and  talk,  or  read  the  papers. 
Of  course  a  man  gets  drunk,  sometimes,  but  usually  it  Is 
not  a  regular  customer,  and  even  such  cases  would  be 
fewer,  if  we  didn't  tax  whisky  so  outrageously  that  the 
dishonest  barkeepers  are  tempted  to  doctor  their  whisky 
with  drugs  which  drive  men  frantic  if  they  drink.  But 
most  of  the  men  are  too  sensible,  and  too  poor,  to  drink 
so  as  really  to  harm  themselves." 

"  Peter,  Peter  I  To  think  that  three  years  in  New  York 
should  bring  you  to  talk  so  1  I  knew  New  York  was  a 


134  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

sink-hole  of  iniquity,  but  I  thought  you  were  too  good  a 
boy  to  be  misled." 

"Mother,  New  York  has  less  evil  in  it  than  most 
places.  Here,  after  the  mills  shut  down,  there's  no  recrea- 
tion for  the  men,  and  so  they  amuse  themselves  with 
viciousness.  But  in  a  great  place  like  New  York,  there 
are  a  thousand  amusements  specially  planned  for  the  even- 
ing hours.  Exhibitions,  theatres,  concerts,  libraries,  lect- 
ures— everything  to  tempt  one  away  from  wrong-doing 
to  fine  things.  And  there  wickedness  is  kept  out  of  sight 
as  it  never  is  here.  In  New  York  you  must  go  to  it, 
but  in  these  small  places  it  hunts  one  out  and  tempts 
one." 

"Oh,  Peter  !  Here,  where  there's  room  in  church  of  a 
Sabbath  for  all  the  folks,  while  they  say  that  in  New  York 
there  isn't  enough  seats  in  churches  for  mor'n  a  quarter 
of  the  people.  A  missionary  was  saying  only  last  week 
that  we  ought  to  help  raise  money  to  build  churches  in 
New  York.  Just  think  of  there  being  mor'n  ten  saloons 
for  every  church  !  And  that  my  son  should  speak  for 
them  and  spend  nights  in  them  !  " 

"  I'm  sorry  it  troubles  you  so.  If  I  felt  I  had  any  right 
to  stop,  I'd  do  it." 

'  You  haven't  drunk  in  them  yet,  Peter  ?  " 
'No." 

'And  you'll  promise  to  write  me  if  you  do." 
Til  promise  you  I  won't  drink  in  them,  mother." 
'Thank  you,  Peter."     Still  his  mother  was  terrified  at 
the  mere  thought,  and  at  her  request,  her  clergyman  spoke 
also  to  Peter.     He  was  easier  to  deal  with,  and  after  a  chat 
with  Peter,  he  told  Mrs.  Stirling  : 

"  I  think  he  is  doing  no  harm,  and  may  do  much  good. 
Let  him  do  what  he  thinks  best." 

"It's  dreadful  though,  to  have  your  son's  first  refusal 
be  about  going  to  saloons,"  sighed  the  mother. 

"From  the  way  he  spoke  I  think  his  refusal  was  as  hard 
to  him  as  to  you.  He's  a  good  boy,  and  you  had  better 
let  him  judge  of  what's  right." 

On  Peter's  return  to  the  city,  he  found  an  invitation  from 
Mrs.  Bohlmann  to  come  to  a  holiday  festivity  of  which 
the  Germans  are  so  fond.  He  was  too  late  to  go,  but  he 
called  promptly,  to  explain  why  he  had  not  responded. 
He  was  very  much  surprised,  on  getting  out  his  dress-suit. 


VARIOUS  KINDS  OF  SOCIETY.  135 

now  donned  for  the  first  time  in  three  years,  to  find  how 
badly  it  fitted  him. 

''Mother  is  right,"  he  had  to  acknowledge.  "I  have 
grown  much  thinner." 

However,  the  ill-fit  did  not  spoil  his  evening.  He  was 
taken  into  the  family  room,  and  passed  a  very  pleasant 
hour  with  the  jolly  brewer,  his  friendly  wife,  and  the  two 
"nice  girls/'  They  were  all  delighted  with  Catlin's  elec- 
tion, and  Peter  had  to  tell  them  about  his  part  in  it.  They 
did  not  let  him  go  when  he  rose,  but  took  him  into  the 
dining-room,  where  a  supper  was  served  at  ten.  In  leav- 
ing a  box  of  candy,  saved  for  him  from  the  Christmas  tree, 
was  given  him. 

" You  will  come  again,  Mr.  Stirling?"  said  Mrs.  Bohl- 
mann,  warmly. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Peter.      "  I  shall  be  very  glad  to." 

"Yah,"  said  Mr.  Bohlmann.  "You  coom  choost  as 
ofden  as  you  blease." 

Peter  took  his  dress-suit  to  a  tailor  the  next  day,  and 
ordered  it  to  be  taken  in.  That  individual  protested  loudly 
on  the  ground  that  the  coat  was  so  old-fashioned  that  it 
would  be  better  to  make  a  new  suit.  Peter  told  him  that 
he  wore  evening  dress  too  rarely  to  make  a  new  suit  worth 
the  having,  and  the  tailor  yielded  rather  than  lose  the  job. 
Scarcely  had  it  been  put  in  order,  when  Peter  was  asked 
to  dine  at  his  clergyman's,  and  the  next  day  came  another 
invitation,  to  dine  with  Justice  Gallagher.  Peter  began  to 
wonder  if  he  had  decided  wisely  in  vamping  the  old  suit. 

He  had  one  of  the  pleasantest  evenings  of  his  life  at  Dr. 
Purple's.  It  was  a  dinner  often,  and  Peter  was  conscious 
that  a  real  compliment  had  been  paid  him  in  being  in- 
cluded, for  the  rest  of  the  men  were  not  merely  older  than 
himself,  but  they  were  the  "strong"  men  of  the  church. 
Two  were  trustees.  All  were  prominent  in  the  business 
world.  And  it  pleased  Peter  to  find  that  he  was  not  treated 
as  the  youngster  of  the  party,  but  had  his  opinions  asked. 
At  one  point  of  the  meal  the  talk  drifted  to  a  Bethel  church 
then  under  consideration,  and  this  in  turn  brought  up  the 
tenement-house  question.  Peter  had  been  studying  this, 
both  practically  and  in  books,  for  the  last  three  months. 
Before  long,  the  whole  table  was  listening  to  what  he 
had  to  say.  When  the  ladies  had  withdrawn,  there  was 
political  talk,  in  which  Peter  was  much  more  a  listener, 


T36  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

but  it  was  from  preference  rather  than  ignorance.  One 
of  the  men,  a  wholesale  dealer  in  provisions,  spoke  of  the 
new  governor's  recommendation  for  food  legislation. 

"The  leaders  tell  me  that  the  legislature  will  do  some- 
thing about  it, "  Peter  said. 

n  They'll  probably  make  it  worse/'  said  Mr.  Avery. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  can  be  bettered  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"  Not  by  politicians." 

"I'm  studying  the  subject/'  Peter  said.  "  Will  you  let 
me  come  down  some  day,  and  talk  with  you  about  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  by  all  means.  You'd  better  call  about  lunch 
hour,  when  I'm  free,  and  we  can  talk  without  interruption." 

Peter  would  much  have  preferred  to  go  on  discussing 
with  the  men,  when  they  all  joined  the  ladies,  but  Mrs. 
Purple  took  him  off,  and  placed  him  between  two  women. 
They  wanted  to  hear  about  "the  case,"  so  Peter  patiently 
went  over  that  well-worn  subject.  Perhaps  he  had  his 
pay  by  being  asked  to  call  upon  both.  More  probably 
the  requests  were  due  to  what  Mrs.  Purple  had  said  of  him 
during  the  smoking  time : 

"  He  seems  such  a  nice,  solid,  sensible  fellow.  I  wish 
some  of  you  would  ask  him  to  call  on  you.  He  has  no 
friends,  apparently." 

The  dinner  at  Justice  Gallagher's  was  a  horse  of  a  very 
different  color.  The  men  did  not  impress  him  very  highly, 
and  the  women  not  at  all.  There  was  more  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  the  talk  was  fast  and  lively.  Peter  was  very 
silent.  So  quiet,  that  Mrs.  Gallagher  told  her  "take  in" 
that  she  "guessed  that  young  Stirling  wasn't  used  to  real 
fashionable  dinners/'  and  Peter's  partner  quite  disregarded 
him  for  the  rattling,  breezy  talker  on  her  other  side.  After 
the  dinner  Peter  had  a  pleasant  chat  with  the  Justice's 
seventeen-year-old  daughter,  who  was  just  from  a  Catholic 
convent,  and  the  two  tried  to  talk  in  French.  It  is  won- 
derful what  rubbish  is  tolerable  if  only  talked  in  a  foreign 
.  tongue. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  wanted  to  have  that  Stirling  for  ?  " 
said  Honorable  Mrs.  Justice  Gallagher,  to  him  who  con- 
ferred that  proud  title  upon  her,  after  the  guests  had  de- 
parted. 

"You  are  clever,  arn't  you?  "  said  Gallagher,  bitingly. 

"That's  living  with  you/'  retorted  the  H.  M.  J.,  who 
was  not  easily  put  down. 


VARIOUS  KTNDS  OF  SOCIETY.  137 

"Then  you  see  that  you  treat  Stirling  as  if  he  was  some- 
body. He's  getting- to  be  a  power  in  the  ward,  and  if  you 
want  to  remain  Mrs.  Justice  Gallagher  and  spend  eight 
thousand — and  pickings — a  year,  you  see  that  you  keep 
him  friendly." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  friendly,  but  he's  awful  dull/' 

"Oh,  no,  mamma,"  said  Monica.  "He  really  isn't. 
He's  read  a  great  many  more  French  books  than  I  have.'7 

Peter  lunched  with  the  wholesale  provision-dealer  as 
planned.  The  lunch  hour  proving  insufficient  for  the  dis- 
cussion, a  family  dinner,  a  few  days  later,  served  to  con- 
tinue it.  The  dealer's  family  were  not  very  enthusiastic 
about  Peter. 

"  He  knows  nothing  but  grub  talk,"  grumbled  the  heir 
apparent,  who  from  the  proud  altitude  of  a  broker's  office, 
had  come  to  scorn  the  family  trade. 

"He  doesn't  know  any  fashionable  people,"  said  one  of 
the  girls,  who  having  unfulfilled  ambitions  concerning 
that  class,  was  doubly  interested  and  influenced  by  its 
Standards  and  idols. 

"He  certainly  is  not  brilliant,"  remarked  the  mother. 

"  Humph,"  growled  the  pater-familias,  "that's  the  way 
all  you  women  go  on.  Brilliant !  Fashionable  !  I  don't 
wonder  marriage  is  a  failure  when  I  see  what  you  like 
in  men.  That  Stirling  is  worth  all  your  dancing  men,  but 
just  because  he  holds  his  tongue  when  he  hasn't  a  sensible 
thing  to  say,  you  think  he's  no  good." 

'  Still  he  is  ' a  nobody.'" 

1  He's  the  fellow  who  made  that  big  speech  in  the 
stump-tail  milk  case." 

'  Not  that  man  ?  " 

'  Exactly.     But  of  course  he  isn't  *  brilliant'  * 
'  I  never  should  have  dreamed  it." 
'Still,"  said  the  heir,    "he   keeps,  his   eloquence  for 
cows,  and  not  for  dinners." 

*'  He  talked  very  well  at  Dr.  Purple's,"  said  the  mamma, 
whose  opinion  of  Peter  had  undergone  a  changa 

"And  he  was  invited  to  call  by  Mrs.  Dupont  and  Mrs. 
Sizer,  which  is  more  than  you've  ever  been,"  said  Avery 
senior  to  Avery  junior. 

"That's  because  of  the  prog,"  growled  the  son,  seeing 
his  opportunity  to  square  accounts  quickly. 

Coming  out  of  church  the  next  Sunday,  Peter  was  laid 


138  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

hold  of  by  the  Bohlmanns  and  carried  off  to  a  mid-day 
dinner,  at  which  were  a  lot  of  pleasant  Germans,  who 
made  it  very  jolly  with  their  kindly  humor.  He  did  not 
contribute  much  to  the  laughter,  but  every  one  seemed  to 
think  him  an  addition  to  the  big  table. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  late  in  January  Peter  dedi- 
cated a  week  of  evenings  to  "Society,"  and  nightly  don- 
ning his  dress  suit,  called  dutifully  on  Mrs.  Dupont,  Mrs. 
Sizer,  Mrs.  Purple,  Mrs.  Avery,  Mrs.  Costell,  Mrs.  Galla- 
gher and  Mrs,  Bohlmann.  Peter  was  becoming  very 
frivolous* 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
AN    EVENING    CALL, 

BUT  Peter's  social  gadding  did  not  end  with  these  bread- 
and-butter  calls.  One  afternoon  in  March,  he  went  into 
the  shop  of  a  famous  picture-dealer,  to  look  over  an  exhi- 
bition then  advertised,  and  had  nearly  finished  his  patient 
examination  of  each  picture,  which  always  involved  quite 
as  much  mental  gymnastics  as  aesthetic  pleasure  to  Peter, 
when  he  heard  a  pleasant : 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Stirling?  " 

Turning,  he  found  Miss  De  Voe  and  a  well-dressed  man 
at  his  elbow.  Peter's  face  lighted  up  in  a  way  which 
made  the  lady  say  to  herself:  "I  wonder  why  he 
wouldn't  buy  another  ticket?"  Aloud  she  said,  "I  want 
you  to  know  another  of  my  cousins.  Mr.  Ogden,  Mr. 
Stirling." 

" Charmed,"  said  Mr.  Ogden  genially.  Any  expression 
which  Peter  had  thought  of  using  seemed  so  absolutely 
tarne,  beside  this  passive  participle,  that  he  merely 
bowed. 

"I  did  not  know  you  cared  for  pictures,"  said  Miss  De 
Voe. 

"I  see  most  of  the  public  exhibitions,"  Peter  told  her8 
"I  try  to  like  them." 

Miss  De  Voe  looked  puzzled. 

"  Don't,"  said  Mr.  Ogden.  '<  I  tried  once,  when  I  first 
began.  But  it's  much  easier  to  notice  what  women  say, 
and  answer  'yes'  and  'no'  at  the  right  points." 


AN  E  VENING  CALL,  139 

Peter  looked  puzzled. 

"Nonsense,  Lispenard,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "He's 
really  one  of  the  best  connoisseurs  I  know,  Mr.  Stir- 
ling." 

"There/'  said  Lispenard.  "You  see.  Only  agree 
with  people,  and  they  think  you  know  everything." 

"I  suppose  you  have  seen  the  pictures,  and  so  won't 
care  to  go  round  with  us  ?  "  inquired  Miss  De  Voe. 

"  I've  looked  at  them,  but  I  should  like  to  go  over  again 
with  you,"  said  Peter.  Then  he  added,  "  if  I  shan't  be  in 
the  way." 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Lispenard  heartily.  "My  cousin 
always  wants  a  listener.  It  will  be  a  charity  to  her 
tongue  and  my  ears."  Miss  De  Voe  merely  gave  him  a 
very  pleasant  smile.  "I  wonder  why  he  wouldn't  buy  a 
ticket  ?  "  she  thought. 

teter  was  rather  astonished  at  the  way  they  looked  at 
the  pictures.  They  would  pass  by  a  dozen  without  giving 
them  a  second  glance,  and  then  stop  at  one,  and  chat 
about  it  for  ten  minutes.  He  found  that  Miss  De  Voe 
had  not  exaggerated  her  cousin's  art  knowledge.  He 
talked  familiarly  and  brilliantly,  though  making  constant 
fun  of  his  own  opinions,  and  often  jeering  at  the  faults  of 
the  picture.  Miss  De  Voe  also  talked  well,  so  Peter  really 
did  supply  the  ears  for  the  party.  He  was  very  much 
pleased  when  they  both  praised  a  certain  picture. 

"I  liked  that,"  he  told  them,  making  the  first  remark 
(not  a  question)  which  he  had  yet  made.  "  It  seemed  to 
me  the  best  here." 

"Unquestionably,"  said  Lispenard.  "There  is  poetry 
and  feeling  in  it." 

Miss  De  Voe  said  :  "  That  is  not  the  one  I  should  have 
thought  of  your  liking." 

"That's  womanly,"  said  Lispenard,  "they  are  always 
deciding  what  a  man  should  like/' 

"  No,"  denied  Miss  De  Voe.  "But  I  should  think  with 
your  liking  for  children,  that  you  would  have  preferred 
that  piece  of  Brown's,  rather  than  this  sad,  desolate  sand- 
dune." 

"I  cannot  say  why  I  like  it,  except  that  I  feel  as  if  it 
had  something  to  do  with  my  own  mood  at  times. " 

"  Are  you  very  lonely  ?  "  asked  Miss  De  Voe,  in  a  voice 
too  low  for  Lispenard  to  hear. 


140  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Sometimes,"  said  Peter,  simply. 

"  I  wish,"  said  Miss  De  Voe,  still  speaking  low,  "  that 
the  next  time  you  feel  so  you  would  come  and  see  me/' 

'  <I  will,  "said  Peter. 

When  they  parted  at  the  door,  Peter  thanked  Lispenard.' 
"I've  really  learned  a  good  deal,  thanks  to  Miss  De 
Voe  and  you.  I've  seen  the  pictures  with  eyes  that  know 
much  more  about  them  than  mine  do." 

"Well,  well  have  to  have  another  turn  some  day. 
We're  always  in  search  of  listeners." 

"If  you  come  and  see  me,  Mr.  Stirling,"  said  Miss  De 
Voe,  "you  shall  see  my  pictures.  Good-bye." 

"So  that  is  your  Democratic  heeler ?"  said  Lispenard, 
eyeing  Peter's  retreating  figure  through  the  carnage 
wfhdow. 

"Don't  call  him  that,  Lispenard,"  said  Miss  De  Voe, 
wincing. 

Lispenard  laughed,  and  leaned  back  into  a  comfortable 
attitude.  "Then  that's  your  protector  of  sick  kittens  ?  " 

Miss  De  Voe  made  no  reply.  She  was  thinking  of  that 
dreary  wintry  stretch  of  sand  and  dune. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  a  week  later,  when  a  north- 
easter had  met  a  south-wester  overhead  and  both  in  com- 
bination had  turned  New  York  streets  into  a  series  of 
funnels,  in  and  through  which  wind,  sleet  and  snow 
fought  for  possession,  to  the  almost  absolute  dispossession 
of  humanity  and  horses,  that  Peter  ended  a  long  stare  at 
his  blank  wall  by  putting  on  his  dress-suit,  and  plunging 
into  the  streets.  He  had,  very  foolishly,  decided  to  omit 
dinner,  a  couple  of  hours  before,  rather  than  face  the 
storm,  and  a  north-east  wind  and  an  empty  stomach  are 
enough  to  set  any  man  staring  at  nothing,  if  that  danger- 
ous inclination  is  at  all  habitual.  Peter  realized  this,  for 
the  opium  eater  is  always  keenly  alive  to  the  dangers  of 
the  drug.  Usually  he  fought  the  tendency  bravely,  but 
this  night  he  felt  too  tired  to  fight  himself,  and  preferred 
to  battle  with  a  little  thing  like  a  New  York  storm.  So  he 
struggled  through  the  deserted  streets  until  he  had  reached 
his  objective  point  in  the  broad  Second  Avenue  house* 
Miss  De  Voe  was  at  home,  but  was  "still  at  dinner/' 

Peter  vacillated,  wondering  what  the  correct  thing  was 
under  the  circumstances.  The  footman,  remembering 
him  of  old,  and  servants  in  those  simple  days  being  ctill 


AN  EVENING  CALL,  141 

open  to  impressions,  suggested  that  he  wait.  Peter  gladly 
accepted  the  idea.  But  he  did  not  wait,  for  hardly  had 
the  footman  left  him  than  that  functionary  returned,  to  tell 
Peter  that  Miss  De  Voe  would  see  him  in  the  dining-room. 

"I  asked  you  to  come  in  here,  because  I'm  sure,  after 
venturing  out  such  a  night,  you  would  like  an  extra  cup 
of  coffee/' Miss  De  Voe  explained.  "You  need  not  sit 
at  the  table.  Morden,  put  a  chair  by  the  fire." 

So  Peter  found  himself  sitting  in  front  of  a  big  wood- 
fire,  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  decidedly  better  in  quality 
than  his  home-brew.  Blank  walls  ceased  to  have  any 
particular  value  for  the  time. 

In  a  moment  Miss  De  Voe  joined  him  at  the  fire.  A 
small  table  was  moved  up,  and  a  plate  of  fruit,  and  a  cup 
of  coffee  placed  upon  it. 

"That  is  all,  Morden,"  she  said.  "It  is  so  nice  of  you 
to  have  come  this  evening.  I  was  promising  myself  a 
very  solitary  time,  and  was  dawdling  over  my  dinner  to 
kill  some  of  it.  Isn't  it  a  dreadful  night  ?  " 

"  If  s  blowing  hard.  Two  or  three  times  I  thought  I 
should  have  to  give  it  up."  " 

4 'You  didn't  walk?" 

"  Yes.  I  could  have  taken  a  solitary  car  that  passed, 
but  the  horses  were  so  done  up  that  I  thought  I  was 
better  able  to  walk." 

Miss  De  Voe  touched  the  bell.  "Another  cup  of 
coffee,  Morden,  and  bring  the  cognac,"  she  said.  "I  am 
not  going  to  let  you  please  your  mother  to-night,"  she 
told  Peter.  "  I  am  going  to  make  you  do  what  I  wish." 
So  she  poured  a  liberal  portion  of  the  eau-de-vie  into 
Peter's  second  cup,  and  he  most  dutifully  drank  it. 
"How  funny  that  he  should  be  so  obstinate  sometimes, 
and  so  obedient  at  others,"  thought  Miss  De  Voe."  "I 
don't  generally  let  men  smoke,  but  I'm  going  to  make  an 
exception  to-night  in  your  case,"  she  continued. 

It  was  a  sore  temptation  to  Peter,  but  he  answered 
quickly,  "  Thank  you  for  the  thought,  but  I  won't  this 
evening." 

"  You  have  smoked  after  dinner  already  ?  " 

"No.  I  tried  to  keep  my  pipe  lighted  in  the  street, 
but  it  blew  and  sleeted  too  hard." 

"Then  you  had  better." 

"  Thank  you,  no." 


I42  THR  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Miss  De  Voe  thought  her  former  thought  again. 
"  Where  do  you  generally  dine  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  no  regular  place.     Just  where  I  happen  to  be.** 

"  And  to-night  ?  " 

Peter  was  not  good  at  dodging.  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  said,  "  I  saw  rather  a  curious  thing, 
as  I  was  walking  up.  Would  you  like  to  hear  about  it  ?  " 

Miss  De  Voe  looked  at  him  curiously,  but  she  did  not 
seem  particularly  interested  in  what  Peter  had  to  tell  her, 
in  response  to  her  "  yes."  It  concerned  an  arrest  on  the 
streets  for  drunkenness. 

"I  didn't  think  the  fellow  was  half  as  drunk  as  frozen," 
Peter  concluded,  "  and  I  told  the  policeman  it  was  a 
case  for  an  ambulance  rather  than  a  station-house.  He 
didn't  agree,  so  I  had  to  go  with  them  both  to  the  precinct 
and  speak  to  the  superintendent." 

"That  was  before  your  dinner?"  asked  Miss  De  Voe, 
calmly. 

It  was  a  very  easily  answered  question,  apparently, 
but  Peter  was  silent  again. 

"  It  was  coming  up  here,"  he  said  finally. 

"  What  is  he  trying  to  keep  back  ?  "  asked  Miss  De  Voe 
mentally.  "  I  suppose  some  of  the  down-town  places 
are  not  quite — but  he  wouldn't — "  then  she  said  out  loud  : 
"  I  wonder  if  you  men  do  as  women  do,  when  they 
dine  alone?  Just  live  on  slops.  Now,  what  did  you 
order  to-night  ?  Were  you  an  ascetic  or  a  sybarite  ? " 

"Usually,"  said  Peter,  "I  eat  a  very  simple  dinner." 

"And  to-night?" 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  about  to-day  ?  " 

"Because  I  wish  to  learn  where  you  dined,  and  thought 
1  could  form  some  conclusion  from  your  menu."  Miss 
De  Voe  laughed,  so  as  to  make  it  appear  a  joke,  but  she 
knew  very  well  that  she  was  misbehaving. 

"  I  didn't  reply  to  your  question,"  said  Peter,  "because 
I  would  have  preferred  not.  But  if  you  really  wish  to 
know,  I'll  answer  it." 

"Yes.  I  should  like  to  know."  Miss  De  Voe  still 
smiled. 

"  I  haven't  dined/' 

"  Mr.  Stirling  !  You  are  joking  ?  "  Miss  De  Voe's  smile 
had  ended,  and  she  was  sitting  up  very  straight  in  her 
chair.  Women  will  do  without  eating  for  an  indefinite 


AN  EVENING  CALL.  143 

period,  and  think  nothing  of  it,  but  the  thought  of  a  hungry 
man  fills  them  with  horror — unless  they  have  the  where- 
withal to  mitigate  the  consequent  appetite.  Hunger  with 
woman,  as  regards  herself,  is  "  a  theory."  As  regards  a 
man  it  is  "  a  condition." 

"No, "said  Peter. 

Miss  De  Voe  touched  the  bell  again,  but  quickly  as 
Morden  answered  it,  Peter  was  already  speaking. 

"  You  are  not  to  trouble  yourself  on  my  account,  Miss 
De  Voe.  I  wish  for  nothing." 

"You  must  have " 

Peter  was  rude  enough  to  interrupt  with  the  word 
"Nothing." 

"  But  I  shall  not  have  a  moment's  pleasure  in  your  call 
if  I  think  of  you  as " 

Peter  interrupted  again.  "  If  that  is  so,"  he  said,  rising, 
"  I  had  better  go." 

"No,"  cried  Miss  De  Voe.  "Oh,  won't  you  please? 
It's  no  trouble.  I'll  not  order  much." 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  said  Peter. 

"Just  a  chop  or " 

Peter  held  out  his  hand. 

"  No,  no.     Sit  down.     Of  course   you   are   to   do   as 

EDU  please.     But  I  should  be  so  happy  if ?  "  and  Miss 
e  Voe  looked  at  Peter  appealingly. 
1  No.     Thank  you." 

'  Nothing,  Morden."     They  sat  down  again.     "  Why, 
didn't  you  dine  ?  "  asked  Miss  De  Voe. 
'  I  didn't  care  to  face  the  storm." 
'  Yet  you  came  out  ? " 

1  Yes.  I  got  blue,  and  thought  it  foolish  to  stay  in- 
doors by  myself." 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  came  here.     It's  a  great  compliment 
to  find  an  evening  with  me  put  above  dinner.     You  know 
I  had  the  feeling  that  you  didn't  like  me." 
"  I'm  sorry  for  that.     It's  not  so." 
"  If  not,  why  did  you  insist  on  my  twice  asking  you  to 
call  on  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  want  to  call  on  you  without  being  sure  that 
you  really  wished  to  have  me." 

"  Then  why  wouldn't  you  stay  and  dine  at  Saratoga?* 
"  Because  my  ticket  wouldn't  have  been  good." 
"  But  a  new  ticket  would  only  cost  seven  dollars.1* 


144  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

11  In  my  neighborhood,  we  don't  say  *  only  seven 
dollars/" 

"  But  you  don't  need  to  think  of  seven  dollars." 

"I  do.  I  never  have  spent  seven  dollars  on  a  dinner 
in  my  life." 

"But  you  should  have,  this  time,  after  making  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in  one  month.  I  know  men 
who.  would  give  that  amount  to  dine  with  me."  It  was  a 
foolish  brag,  but  Miss  De  Voe  felt  that  her  usual  means 
of  inspiring  respect  were  not  working, — not  even  real- 
ized. 

"  Very  likely.  But  I  can't  afford  such  luxuries,  I  had 
spent  more  than  usual  and  had  to  be  careful." 

"Then  it  was  economy?" 

''Yes." 

"I  had  no  idea  my  dinner  invitations  would  ever  be 
held  in  so  little  respect  that  a  man  would  decline  one  to 
save  seven  dollars."  Miss  De  Voe  was  hurt.  "1  had 
given  him  five  hundred  dollars,"  she  told  herself,  "and 
he  ought  to  have  been  willing  to  spend  such  a  small 
amount  of  it  to  please  me."  Then  she  said  :  "A  great 
many  people  economize  in  foolish  ways." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Peter.  "  I'm  sorry  if  I  dis- 
appointed you.  I  really  didn't  think  I  ought  to  spend  the 
money." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "Were  you 
pleased  with  the  nomination  and  election  of  Catlin  ? " 

"I  was  pleased  at  the  election,  but  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred Porter." 

"  I  thought  you  tried  to  prevent  Porter's  nomination?  " 

"  That's  what  the  papers  said,  but  they  didn't  under- 
stand." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  papers.  You  know  I  heard 
your  speech  in  the  convention." 

"  A  great  many  people  seem  to  have  misunderstood 
me.  I  tried  to  make  it  clear." 

"  Did  you  intern!  that  the  convention  should  laugh  ?  " 

"  No.     That  surprised  and  gr'ev  d  me  very  much  1  " 

Miss  De  Voe  gathered  from  this  and  from  what  the 
papers  had  said  that  it  must  be  a  mortifying  subject  to 
Peter,  and  knew  that  she  ought  to  discontinue  it.  But 
she  could  not  help  saying,  "  Why  ?  " 

"It's  difficult  to   explain,  I'm   afraid.     I  had  a  feeling 


AN  EVENING  CALL.  145 

that  a  man  was  trying  to  do  wrong,  but  I  hoped  that 
I  was  mistaken.  It  seemed  to  me  that  circumstances 
compelled  me  to  tell  the  convention  all  about  it,  but  I 
was  very  careful  not  to  hint  at  my  suspicion.  Yet  the 
moment  I  told  them  they  laughed." 

"Why?" 

"Because  they  felt  sure  that  the  man  had  done  wrong," 

"  Oh  !  "  It  was  a  small  exclamation,  but  the  expression 
Miss  De  Voe  put  into  it  gave  it  a  big  meaning.  "Then 
they  were  laughing  at  Maguire?  " 

"  At  the  time  they  were.  Really,  though,  they  were 
laughing  at  human  weakness.  Most  people  seem  to  find 
that  amusing." 

"  And  that  is  why  you  were  grieved  ? " 

-Yes." 

"  But  why  did  the  papers  treat  you  so  badly  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Costell  tells  me  that  I  told  too  much  truth  for 
people  to  understand.  I  ought  to  have  said  nothing,  or 
charged  a  bargain  right  out,  for  then  they  would  have 
understood.  A  friend  of — a  fellow  I  used  to  know,  said 
I  was  the  best  chap  for  bungling  he  ever  knew,  and  I'm 
afraid  it's  true." 

"  Do  you  know  Costell  ?  I  thought  he  was  such  a  dis- 
honest politician  ?  " 

"  I  know  Mr.  Costell.  I  haven't  met  the  dishonest 
politician  yet." 

"You  mean?" 

"  He  hasn't  shown  me  the  side  the  papers  talk  about." 

"  And  when  he  does  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  very  sorry,  for  I  like  him,  and  I  like  his  wife." 
Then  Peter  told  about  the  little  woman  who  hated  politics 
and  loved  flowers,  and  about  the  cool,  able  manager  of 
men,  who  could  not  restrain  himself  from  putting  his 
arms  about  the  necks  of  his  favorite  horses,  and  who  had 
told  about  the  death  of  one  of  his  mares  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  "  He  had  his  cheek  cut  open  by  a  kick  from  one 
of  his  horses  once,  and  he  speaks  of  it  just  as  we  would 
speak  of  some  unintentional  fault  of  a  child." 

"  Has  he  a  great  scar  on  his  cheek  ?  " 

"Yes.     Have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"Once.  Just  as  we  were  coming  out  of  the  convention. 
He  said  something1  about  you  to  a  group  of  men  which 
called  my  attention  to  him."  Miss  De  Voe  thought 


146  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Peter  would  ask  her  what  it  was.  "Would  you  like  to 
know  what  he  said?"  she  asked,  when  Peter  failed  to 
do  so. 

"  I  think  he  would  have  said  it  to  me,  if  he  wished  me 
to  hear  it." 

Miss  De  Voe's  mind  reverted  to  her  criticism  of  Peter. 
"He  is  so  absolutely  without  our  standards."  Her  chair 
suddenly  ceased  to  be  comfortable.  She  rose,  saying, 
"  Let  us  go  to  the  library.  I  shall  not  show  you  my  pict- 
ures now.  The  gallery  is  too  big  to  be  pleasant  such  a 
night.  You  must  come  again  for  that.  Won't  you  tell 
me  about  some  of  the  other  men  you  are  meeting  in 
politics  ? "  she  asked  when  they  had  sat  down  before 
another  open  fire.  "  It  seems  as  if  all  the  people  I  know 
are  just  alike — I  suppose  it's  because  we  are  all  so  con- 
ventional— and  I  am  very  much  interested  in  hearing 
about  other  kinds." 

So  Peter  told  about  Dennis  and  Blunkers,  and  the 
"  b'ys  "  in  the  saloons  ;  about  Green  and  his  fellow  dele- 
gates ;  about  the  Honorable  Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Miss  Gal- 
lagher, and  their  dinner  companions.  He  did  not  satirize 
in  the  least.  He  merely  told  various  incidents  and  con- 
versations, in  a  sober,  serious  way  ;  but  Miss  De  Voe  was 
quietly  amused  by  much  of  the  narrative  and  said  to  her- 
self, "I  think  he  has  humor,  but  is  too  serious-minded  to 
yield  to  it."  She  must  have  enjoyed  his  talk  for  she 
would  not  let  Peter  go  early,  and  he  was  still  too  ig- 
norant of  social  usages  to  know  how  to  get  away, 
whether  a  woman  wished  or  no.  Finally  he  insisted  that 
he  must  leave  when  the  clock  pointed  dangerously  near 
eleven. 

"  Mr.  Stirling,"  said  Miss  De  Voe, in  a  doubtful,  "won't- 
you-please  "  voice,  such  as  few  men  had  ever  heard  from 
her,  "I  want  you  to  let  me  send  you  home?  It  will  only 
take  a  moment  to  have  the  carriage  here." 

"I  wouldn't  take  a  horse  out  in  such  weather,"  said 
Peter,  in  a  very  settling  kind  of  voice. 

"  He's  obstinate,"  thought  Miss  De  Voe.  "And  he  makes 
his  obstinacy  so  dreadfully — dreadfully  pronounced  !  '' 
Aloud  she  said  :  "  You  will  come  again  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  let  me. " 

"Do.  I  am  very  much  alone  too,  as  perhaps  you 
know  ?  "  Miss  De  Voe  did  not  choose  to  say  that  her 


A  DINNER.  147 

rooms  could  be  filled  nightly  and  that  everywhere  she 
was  welcome. 

"No.  I  really  know  nothing  about  you,  except  what 
you  have  told  me,  and  what  I  have  seen." 

Miss  De  Voe  laughed  merrily  at  Peter's  frankness.  "I 
feel  as  if  I  knew  all  about  you,"  she  said. 

"  But  you  have  asked  questions,"  replied  Peter. 

Miss  De  Voe  caught  her  breath  again.  Try  as  she 
would,  she  could  not  get  accustomed  to  Peter.  All  her 
social  experience  failed  to  bridge  the  chasm  opened  by 
his  speech.  "  What  did  he  mean  by  that  plain  statement, 
spoken  in  such  a  matter-of-fact  voice  ? "  she  asked  her- 
self. Of  course  the  pause  could  not  continue  indefinite- 
ly, and  she  finally  said  :  "I  have  lived  alone  ever  since 
my  father's  death.  I  have  relatives,  but  prefer  to  stay 
here.  I  am  so  much  more  independent.  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  move  some  day.  This  part  of  the  city  is 
beginning  to  change  so."  Miss  De  Voe  was  merely 
talking  against  time,  and  was  not  sorry  when  Peter 
shook  hands,  and  left  her  alone. 

"He's  very  different  from  most  men,"  she  said  to  the 
blazing  logs.  "He  is  so  uncomplimentary  and  out- 
spoken !  How  can  he  succeed  in  politics  ?  Still,  after 
the  conventional  society  man  he  is — he  is — very  refresh- 
ing. I  think  I  must  help  him  a  little  socially." 


CHAPTER   X^CVIL 

A  DINNER. 

THE  last  remark  made  by  Miss  De  Voe  to  her  fire  re- 
sulted, after  a  few  days,  in  Peter's  receiving  a  formal  dinner 
invitation,  which  he  accepted  with  a  promptness  not  to  be 
surpassed  by  the  best-bred  diner-out.  He  regretted  now 
his  vamping  of  the  old  suit.  Peter  understood  that  he 
was  in  for  quite  another  affair  than  the  Avery,  the  Gal- 
lagher, or  even  the  Purple  dinner.  He  did  not  worry, 
however,  and  if  in  the  dressing-room  he  looked  furtively 
at  the  coats  of  the  other  men,  he  entirely  forgot  the  sub- 
ject the  moment  he  started  downstairs,  and  thought  no 


148  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

further  of  it  till  he  came  to  take  off  the  suit  in  his  own 
room. 

When  Peter  entered  the  drawing-room,  he  found  it  well 
filled  with  young  people,  and  for  a  moment  a  little  of  the 
bewildered  feeling  of  four  years  before  came  over  him. 
But  he  found  himself  chatting  with  Miss  De  Voe,f  and  the 
feeling  left  him  as  quickly  as  it  had  come.  In  a  moment 
he  was  introduced  to  a  "  Miss  Lenox,"  who  began  talking 
in  an  easy  way  which  gave  Peter  just  as  much  or  as  little 
to  say  as  he  chose.  Peter  wondered  if  many  girls  were 
as  easy  to  talk  to  as — as — Miss  Lenox. 

He  took  Miss  De  Voe  in,  and  found  Dorothy  Ogden 
sitting  on  his  other  side.  He  had  barely  exchanged 
greetings  with  her,  when  he  heard  his  name  spoken  from 
across  the  table,  and  looking  up,  he  found  Miss  Leroy 
sitting  opposite. 

"I  hope  you  haven't  entirely  forgotten  me/'  that  girl 
said,  the  moment  his  attention  was  caught. 

''Not  at  all,  "said  Peter. 

"Nor  my  dress,"  laughed  Miss  Leroy. 

"I  remember  the  style,  material,  and  train." 

" Especially  the  train  I  am  sure." 

"  Do  explain  these  mysterious  remarks/'  said  Dorothy. 

"Mr.  Stirling  and  I  officiated  at  a  wedding,  and  1  was 
in  such  mortal  terror  lest  some  usher  should  step  on  my 
gown,  that  it  became  a  joke." 

"Whose  wedding  was  that?  "  asked  Miss  De  Voe. 

"Miss  Pierce's  and  Watts  D'Alloi's,"  said  the  bridesmaid 

"  Do  you  know  Watts  D'Alloi  ?  "  exclaimed  Miss  De  Voe 
to  Peter. 

"Yes." 

"Indeed!     When?" 

"At  college." 

"Are  you  a  Harvard  man?" 

"Yes." 

"You  were  Mr.  D'Alloi'schum,  weren't  you  ?  "  said  Miss 
Leroy. 

"Yes." 

"  Watts  D'Alloi  ? "  again  exclaimed  Miss  De  Voe. 

"Yes." 

"  But  he's  a  mere  boy." 

"He's  two  years  my  senior. * 

"You  don't  mean  it?"  . 


A  DINNER.  149 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  you  were  over  thirty." 

"Most  people  do." 

Miss  De  Voe  said  to  herself,  "  I  don't  know  as  much 
about  him  as  I  thought  I  did.  He  may  be  very  frank, 
but  he  doesn't  tell  all  one  thinks.  Now  I  know  where  he 
gets  his  nice  manner.  I  ought  to  have  recognized  the 
Harvard  finish." 

"When  did  you  last  hear  from  the  D'Allois?"  asked 
Miss  Leroy. 

"Not  since  they  sailed,"  said  Peter,  wincing  internally. 

"Not  really?"  said  the  bridesmaid.  "Surely  you've 
heard  of  the  baby  ?  " 

' '  No. "  Lines  were  coming  into  Peter's  face  which  Miss 
De  Voe  had  never  before  seen. 

"How  strange.  The  letters  must  have  gone  astray. 
But  you  have  written  him  ?" 

"I  did  not  know  his  address." 

"Then  you  really  haven't  heard  of  the  little  baby — why, 
it  was  born  two — no,  three  years  ago — and  of  Helen's 
long  ill-health,  and  of  their  taking  a  villa  on  the  Riviera, 
and  of  how  they  hope  to  come  home  this  spring  ?  " 

"No." 

"Yes.  They  will  sail  in  June  if  Helen  is  well  enough. 
I'm  to  be  god-mother." 

"  If  you  were  Mr.  D'Alloi's  chum,  you  must  have  known 
Ray  Rivington,"  said  Dorothy. 

"Yes.  But  I've  not  seen  him  since  we  graduated.  He 
went  out  West." 

"  He  has  just  returned.     Ranching  is  not  to  his  taste." 

"Will  you,  if  you  see  him,  say  that  I'm  in  New  York 
and  should  like  to  run  across  him  ?  " 

"I  will.  He  and  Laurence — my  second  brother — are 
old  cronies,  and  he  often  drops  in  on  us.  I  want  you  to 
know  my  brothers.  They  are  both  here  this  evening." 

"  I  have  met  the  elder  one,  I  suppose." 

"No.  That  was  a  cousin,  Lispenard  Ogden.  He 
spoke  of  meeting  you.  You  would  be  amused  to  hear 
his  comment  about  you." 

"Mr.  Stirling  doesn't  like  to  have  speeches  repeated  to 
him,  Dorothy,"  said  Miss  De  Voe. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Dorothy,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other. 


150  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

''He  snubbed  me  the  other  evening  when  I  tried  to 
tell  him  what  we  heard,  coming  out  of  the  convention 
last  autumn/'  explained  Miss  De  Voe,  smiling  slightly 
at  the  thought  of  treating  Peter  with  a  dose  of  his  own 
medicine. 

Peter  looked  at  Miss  De  Voe.  ' '  I  hope  you  don't  mean 
that?" 

"  How  else  could  I  take  it  ?  " 

"You  asked  me  if  I  wished  something,  and  I  merely 
declined,  I  think." 

"Oh,  no.     You  reproved  me." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  if  I  did.     I'm  always  blundering." 

"Tell  us  what  Lispenard  said,  Dorothy.  I'm  curious 
myself." 

"May  I,  Mr.  Stirling? 

"  I  would  rather  not,"  said  Peter. 

And  Dorothy  did  not  tell  him,  but  in  the  drawing-room 
she  told  Miss  De  Voe : 

"  He  said  that  except  his  professor  of  archaeology  at 
Heidelberg,  Mr.  Stirling  was  the  nicest  old  dullard  he'd  ever 
met,  and  that  he  must  be  a  very  good  chap  to  smoke  with." 

"He  said  that,  Dorothy?"  exclaimed  Miss  De  Voe, 
contemptuously. 

"Yes." 

"How  ridiculous,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "  Lispenard's 
always  trying  to  hit  things  off  in  epigrams,  and  sometimes 
he's  very  foolish."  Then  she  turned  to  Miss  Leroy. 
"It  was  very  nice,  your  knowing  Mr.  Stirling." 

"I  only  met  him  that  once.  But  he's  the  kind  of  man 
somehow  that  you  remember.  It's  curious  I've  never 
heard  of  him  since  then." 

"You  know  he's  the  man  who  made  that  splendid 
speech  when  the  poor  children  were  poisoned  summer 
before  last." 

"I  can't  believe  it!" 

"It's  so.     That  is  the  way  I  came  to  know  him." 

Miss  Leroy  laughed.  "And  Helen  said  he  was  a  man 
who  needed  help  in  talking  !  " 

"Was  Mrs.  D'Alloi  a  great  friend  of  his  ?  " 

"  No.  She  told  me  that  Watts  had  brought  him  to  see 
them  only  once.  I  don't  think  Mr.  Pierce  liked  him." 

"  He  evidently  was  very  much  hurt  at  Watts's  not  writ- 
ing him. " 


A  DINNER.  Ijt 

"Yes.  I  was  really  sorry  I  spoke,  when  I  saw  how  he 
took  it." 

"Watts  is  a  nice  boy,  but  he  always  was  thought- 
less." 

In  passing  out  of  the  dining-room,  Dorothy  had  spoken 
to  a  man  for  a  moment,  and  he  at  once  joined  Peter. 

"You  know  my  sister,  Miss  Ogden,  who's  the  best 
representative  of  us,"  he  said.  "Now  I'll  show  you  the 
worst.  I  don't  know  whether  she  exploited  her  brother 
Ogden  to  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  She  talked  about  you  and  your  brother  this 
evening/' 

"Trust  her  to  stand  by  her  family.  There's  more 
loyalty  in  her  than  there  was  in  the  army  of  the  Potomac. 
My  cousin  Lispenard  says  it's  wrecking  his  nervous 
system  to  live  up  to  the  reputation  she  makes  for  him." 

"I  never  had  a  sister,  but  it  must  be  rather  a  good 
thing  to  live  up  to." 

"Yes.  And  to  live  with.  Especially  other  fellows' 
sisters. " 

"Are  you  ready  to  part  with  yours  for  that  purpose?" 

"No.  That's  asking  too  much.  By  the  way,  I  think 
we  are  in  the  same  work.  I'm  in  the  office  ofjarvis, 
Redburn  and  Saltus." 

"I'm  trying  it  by  myself." 

"You've  been  very  lucky." 

"Yes.  I've  succeeded  much  better  than  I  hoped  for. 
But  I've  had  very  few  clients." 

"'Fortunately  it  doesn't  take  many.  Two  or  three 
rich  steady  clients  will  keep  a  fellow  running.  I  know  a 
man  who's  only  got  one,  but  he  runs  him  for  all  he's 
worth,  and  gets  a  pretty  good  living  out  of  him." 

"  My  clients  haven't  been  of  that  sort."  Peter  smiled  a 
little  at  the  thought  of  making  a  steady  living  out  of  the 
Blacketts,  Dooleys  or  Milligans. 

*'  It's  all  a  matter  of  friends." 

Peter  had  a  different  theory,  but  he  did  not  say  so.  Just 
at  that  point  they  were  joined  by  Laurence  Ogden,  who 
was  duly  introduced,  and  in  a  moment  the  conversation 
at  their  end  of  the  table  became  general.  Peter  listened, 
enjoying  his  Havana. 

When  they  joined  the  ladies,  they  found  Lispenard 
Ogden  there,  and  he  intercepted  Peter. 


$$2  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  "A  friend  of  mine  has  just 
come  back  from  Europe,  with  a  lot  of  prints.  He's  a 
fellow  who  thinks  he  has  discrimination,  and  he  wants 
me  to  come  up  and  look  them  over  to-morrow  evening. 
He  hopes  to  have  his  own  taste  approved  and  flattered. 
I'm  not  a  bit  good  at  that,  with  men.  Won't  you  go  with 
me,  and  help'me  lie?" 

"Of  course  I  should  like  to." 

"All  right.     Dine  with  me  at  six  at  the  Union  Club." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  talk  to  each  other, "said  Miss 
Pe  Voe.  "  Lispenard,  go  and  talk  with  Miss  McDougal." 

"See  how  quickly  lying  brings  its  own  punishment/' 
laughed  Lispenard,  walking  away. 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  asked  Miss  De  Voe. 

"  The  opposite  of  what  he  says,  I  think,"  said  Peter. 

"  That  is  a  very  good  description  of  Lispenard.  Almost 
good  enough  to  have  been  said  by  himself.  If  you  don't 
mind,  I'll  tell  him." 

"No." 

"Do  tell  me,  Mr.  Stirling,  how  you  and  Watts  D'Alloi 
came  to  room  together  ?  " 

"  He  asked  me." 

"  Yes.     But  what  ever  made  him  do  that?" 

"  I've  often  wondered  myself. " 

"I  can  easily  understand  his  asking  you,  but  what  first 
threw  you  together  ?  " 

"A  college  scrape." 

"Were  you  in  a  college  scrape ? " 

"Yes.     I  was  up  before  the  faculty  twice." 

"Do  tell  me  what  you  had  done?" 

"I  was  charged  with  stealing  the  chapel  Bible,  and 
with  painting  a  front  door  of  one  of  the  professors." 

"And  had  you  done  these  things  ?  " 

"No." 

The  guests  began  to  say  good-night,  so  the  dialogue 
was  interrupted.  When  it  came  Peter's  turn  to  go,  Miss 
De  Voe  said : 

"I  hope  you  will  not  again  refuse  my  dinner  in- 
vitations. " 

"I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  evening,"  said  Peter. 
"But  I  had  a  pleasanter  one,  the  other  night." 

"  Good-evening/'  said  Miss  De  Voe  mechanically.  She 
was  really  thinking  "What  a  very  nice  speech.  He 


A  DINNER.  153 

couldn't  have  meant  anything  by  his  remark  about  the 
questions. " 

Peter  dined  the  next  evening  with  Lispenard,  who  in 
the  course  of  the  meal  turned  the  conversation  to  Miss  De 
Voe.  Lispenard  was  curious  to  learn  just  what  Peter 
knew  of  her. 

"She's  a  great  swell,  of  course,"  he  said  incidentally. 

"I  suppose  so.  I  really  know  nothing  about  her,  but 
the  moment  I  saw  her  I  felt  that  she  was  different  from 
any  other  woman  I  had  ever  met." 

"  But  you've  found  out  about  her  since  ?  " 

"No.  I  was  tempted  to  question  Dr.  Purple,  but  I 
didn't  like  to  ask  about  a  friend." 

Lispenard  laughed.  "  You've  got  a  pretty  bad  case  of 
conscience,  I'm  afraid.  It's  a  poor  thing  to  have  in  New 
York,  too.  Well,  my  cousin  is  one  of  the  richest,  best 
born  women  in  this  country,  though  I  say  it.  You  can't 
do  better  than  cultivate  her." 

"  Is  that  what  you  do  ?  " 

"No.  You  have  me  there.  She  doesn't  approve  of 
me  at  all.  You  see,  women  in  this  country  expect  a  man 
to  be  serious  and  work.  I  can't  do  either.  I  suppose  its 
my  foreign  education.  She  likes  my  company,  and  finds 
my  escortage  very  convenient.  But  while  she  thinks  I'm 
a  pretty  good  companion,  she  is  sure  I'm  a  poor  sort  of  a 
man.  If  she  takes  a  shine  to  you,  make  the  most  of  it. 
She  can  give  you  anything  she  pleases  socially." 

"I  suppose  you  have  anything  you  please  socially?" 

"Pretty  much." 

"And  would  you  advise  me  to  spend  time  to  get 
it?" 

' '  Um.  I  wouldn't  give  the  toss  of  a  copper  for  it — but 
I  can  have  it.  It's  not  being  able  to  have  it  that's  the 
bad  thing." 

"So  I  have  found,"  said  Peter  gravely. 

Lispenard  laughed  heartily,  as  he  sipped  his  "Court 
France."  "  I  wish,"  he  said,  "that  a  lot  of  people,  whose 
lives  are  given  to  nothing  else,  could  have  heard  you  say 
that,  in  that  tone  of  voice.  You  don't  spell  Society  with 
a  capital,  do  you  ?  " 

"Possibly,"  said  Peter,  "  if  I  had  more  capital,  I  should 
use  some  on  society. " 

"  Good,"  said  Lispenard.      "  Heavens/'  he  said  to  him- 


154  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

self,    "he's   made   a  joke!     Cousin   Anneke   will   never 
believe  it." 

He  told  her  the  next  day,  and  his  statement  proved 
correct. 

'1  know  you  made  the  joke,"  she  said.      "  He  didn't," 
'  And  why  shouldn't  he  joke  as  well  as  I  ?  " 
clt  doesn't  suit  him." 
'Why  not?" 

'  Parlor  tricks  are  all  right  in  a  lap-dog,  but  they  only 
belittle  a  mastiff." 

Lispenard  laughed  good-naturedly.  He  was  used  to 
his  cousin's  hits  at  his  do-nothingness,  and  rather  enjoyed 
them.  "He  is  a  big  beast,  isn't  he?  But  he's  a  nice 
fellow.  We  had  such  a  good  time  over  Le  Grand's  etch- 
ings last  night.  Didn't  get  away  till  after  one.  It's  really 
a  pleasure  to  find  a  man  who  can  smoke  and  keep  quiet, 
and  yet  enjoy  things  strongly.  Le  Grand  was  taken  with 
him  too.  We  just  fitted  each  other." 

"I'm  glad  you  took  him.  I'm  going  to  give  him  some 
society." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  Dr.  Brown  ?  " 

"No.     What  is  it?" 

"A  certain  widow  announced  to  her  son  that  she  was 
to  marry  Dr.  Brown.  *  Bully  for  you,  Ma,'  said  the  son, 
*  Does  Dr.  Brown  know  it  ?  ; 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Lispenard  laughed.  "  Does  Stirling  know  it  ?  Because 
I  advise  you  to  tell  him  before  you  decide  to  do  anything 
with  him.  He's  not  easy  to  drive." 

"Of  course  he'll  be  glad  to  meet  nice  people." 

"Try  him." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  that  Peter  Stirling  won't  give  a  raparee  for  al] 
the  society  you  can  give  him." 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

But  Lispenard  was  right.  Peter  had  enjoyed  the  dinner 
at  Miss  De  Voe's  and  the  evening  at  Mr.  Le  Grand's. 
Yet  each  night  on  reaching  his  rooms,  he  had  sat  long 
hours  in  his  straight  office  chair,  in  the  dark.  He  was 
thinking  of  what  Miss  Leroy  had  told  him  of — of—- 
He was  not  thinking  of  "  Society." 


COMMISSIONS.  155 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

COMMISSIONS. 

PETER  made  his  dinner  call  at  Miss  De  Voe's,  but  did 
not  find  her  at  home.  He  received  a  very  pleasant  letter 
expressing  her  regret  at  missing  him,  and  a  request  to 
lunch  with  her  two  days  later,  and  to  go  with  some 
friends  to  an  afternoon  piano  recital,  "if  you  care  for 
music.  If  not,  merely  lunch  with  us.#  Peter  replied  that 
he  was  very  sorry,  but  business  called  him  to  Albany  on 
that  day. 

' '  I  really  regret  it, "  said  Miss  De  Voe  to  Dorothy. 
"It  is  getting  so  late  in  the  season,  that  unless  he  makes 
his  call  quickly,  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  give  him  more 
than  one  other  chance." 

Peter's  business  in  Albany  had  been  sprung  on  him 
suddenly.  It  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  request 
sent  verbally  through  Costell  from  Governor  Catlin,  to 
come  up  and  see  him. 

"  It's  about  the  food  and  tenement  commission  bills," 
Costell  told  him.  "They'll  be  passed  by  the  Senate 
to-day  or  to-morrow,  and  be  in  Catlin's  hands/' 

"I  hope  he'll  make  good  appointments,"  said  Peter, 
anxiously. 

"  I  think  he  will,"  said  Costell,  smiling  quietly.  "  But 
I  don't  believe  they  will  be  able  to  do  much.  Commis- 
sions are  commonly  a  way  of  staving  off  legislation." 

Peter  went  up  to  Albany  and  saw  Catlin.  Much  to  his 
surprise  he  found  the  Governor  asking  his  advice  about 
the  bills  and  the  personnel  of  the  commissions.  But  after 
a  few  minutes  he  found  that  this  seeking  for  aid  and  sup- 
port in  all  matters  was  chronic,  and  meant  nothing 
special  in  his  own  case. 

"Mr.  Schlurger  tells  me,  though  he  introduced  the 
bills,  that  you  drafted  both.  Do  you  think  I  had  better 
sign  them  ?  " 

4 'Yes/' 


156  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Mr.  Costell  told  me  to  take  your  advice.  You  really 
think  I  had  better?" 

"Yes." 

The  Governor  evidently  found  something  solacing  in 
the  firm  voice  in  which  Peter  spoke  his  "  yes."  He  drew 
two  papers  towards  him. 

"You  really  think  I  had  better?  * 

"Yes." 

The  Governor  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  but  hesitated. 

"The  amendments  haven't  hurt  them?"  he  queried. 

"Not  much." 

"  But  they  have  been  hurt  ? " 

"They  have  been  made  better  in  some  ways.1* 

"Really?" 

"Yes." 

Still  the  Governor  hesitated,  but  finally  began  a  big  G. 
Having  committed  himself,  he  wrote  the  rest  rapidly. 
He  paused  for  a  moment  over  the  second  bill,  and 
lingered  it  nervously.  Then  he  signed  it  quickly.  "  That's 
done."  He  shoved  them  both  away  much  as  if  they  were 
dangerous. 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Peter,  "  if  he  enjoys  politics  ?  " 

•'*  There's  been  a  great  deal  of  trouble  about  the  com- 
missioners, "  said  the  Governor. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Peter. 

"Even  now,  I  can't  decide.  The  leaders  all  want 
different  men." 

"The  decision  rests  with  you." 

"That's  the  trouble,"  sighed  the  Governor.  "If  only 
they'd  agree." 

"You  should  make  your  own  choice.  You  will  be  held 
responsible  if  the  appointments  are  bad." 

"  I  know  I  shall.  Just  look  over  those  lists,  and  see  if 
you  think  they'll  do  ? " 

Peter  took  the  si  ps  of  paper  and  read  them. 

"  I  needn't  say  I'm  pleased  to  see  my  name,"  he  said. 
"  I  had  no  idea  you  would  think  of  me." 

"That  was  done  by  Costell,"  said  the  Governor,  hasten- 
ing to  shift  the  responsibility. 

"  I  really  don't  know  any.  of  the  rest  well  enough  to 
express  an  opinion.  Personally,  I  should  like  to  see  some 
scientific  men  on  each  commission."  . 

"  Scientific!     But  we  have  none  in  politics." 


COMMISSIONS.  157 

"  No  ?     But  this  isn't  politics. " 

"  I  hoped  you'd  think  these  lists  right." 

"I  think  they  are  good.  And  the  bills  give  us  the 
power  to  take  evidence ;  perhaps  we  can  get  the  scientific 
part  that  way." 

Peter  did  his  best  to  brace  Catlin  up ;  and  his  talk  or 
other  pressure  seemed  to  have  partially  galvanized  the 
backbone  of  that  limp  individual,  for  a  week  later  the 
papers  announced  the  naming  of  the  two  commissions. 
The  lists  had  been  changed,  however.  That  on  food  con- 
sisted of  Green,  a  wholesale  grocer,  and  a  member  of  the 
Health  Board.  Peter's  name  had  been  dropped.  That  on 
tenements,  of  five  members,  was  made  up  of  Peter ;  a 
very  large  property-owner  in  New  York,  who  was  a  mem- 
ber as  well  of  the  Assembly ;  a  professional  labor  agita- 
tor ;  a  well-known  politician  of  the  better  type,  and  a 
public  contractor.  Peter,  who  had  been  studying  some 
reports  of  a  British  Royal  Commission  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, looked  grave,  thinking  that  what  the  trained  men  in 
England  had  failed  in  doing,  he  could  hardly  hope  to  ac- 
complish with  such  ill-assorted  instruments.  The  papers 
were  rather  down  on  the  lists.  "The  appointments  have 
destroyed  any  chance  of  possible  benefit/'  was  their  gen- 
eral conclusion,  and  Peter  feared  they  were  right. 

Costell  laughed  when  Peter  spoke  of  the  commissions. 
"  If  you  want  Catlin  to  do  anything  well,  you've  got  to 
stand  over  him  till  it's  done.  I  wanted  you  on  both  com- 
missions, so  that  you  could  see  how  useless  they  all  are, 
and  not  blame  us  politicians  for  failing  in  our  duty. 
Green  promises  to  get  you  appointed  Secretary  of  the 
Food  Commission,  which  is  the  next  best  thing,  and  will 
give  you  a  good  salary  for  a  time." 

The  Tenement  Commission  met  with  little  delay,  and 
Peter  had  a  chance  to  examine  its  motley  members.  The 
big  landlord  was  a  great  swell,  who  had  political  am- 
bitions, but  was  too  exclusive,  and  too  much  of  a  dilet- 
tante to  be  a  real  force.  Peter  took  a  prejudice  against 
him  before  meeting  him,  for  he  knew  just  how  his 
election  to  the  Assembly  had  been  obtained — even  the 
size  of  the  check — and  Peter  thought  buying  an  election 
was  not  a  very  creditable  business.  He  did  not  like  what 
he  knew  of  the  labor  agitator,  for  such  of  the  latter's  utter- 
ances and  opinions  as  he  had  read  seemed  to  be  the  cheap- 


I58  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

est  kind  of  demagogism.  The  politician  he  had  met  and 
liked.  Of  the  contractor  he  knew  nothing. 

The  Commission  organized  by  electing  the  politician  as 
chairman.  Then  the  naming  of  a  secretary  was  dis- 
cussed, each  member  but  Peter  having  a  candidate.  Much 
to  Peter's  surprise,  the  landlord,  Mr.  Pell,  named  Ray 
Rivington. 

"  I  thought  he  was  studying  law  ?  "  Peter  said. 

"  He  is,"  said  Pell.  "  But  he  can  easily  arrange  to  get 
off  for  the  few  hours  we  shall  meet  a  week,  and  the  five 
dollars  a  day  will  be  a  very  nice  addition  to  his  income. 
Do  you  know  him  ?  "- 

"We  were  in  college  together.     I  thought  he  was  rich." 

"  No.  He's  of  good  family,  but  the  Rivingtons  are 
growing  poorer  every  year.  They  try  to  live  on  their 
traditions,  and  traditions  don't  pay  grocers.  I  hope  you'll 
help  him.  He's  a  very  decent  fellow/' 

"  I  shall  vote  for  him/'  replied  Peter,  marvelling  that 
he  should  be  able  to  give  a  lift  to  the  man  who,  in  the 
Harvard  days,  had  seemed  so  thoroughly  the  mate  of 
Watts  and  the  other  rich  fellows  of  the  "  gang."  Riving- 
ton being  the  only  candidate  who  had  two  votes,  he  was 
promptly  selected. 

Thirty  arduous  minutes  were  spent  in  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  the  fifth  member  of  the  Commission,  and  in  the 
election  of  chairman  and  secretary.  A  motion  was  then 
made  to  adjourn,  on  the  ground  that  the  Commission 
could  not  proceed  without  the  secretary. 

Peter  promptly  objected.  He  had  been  named  secre- 
tary for  this  particular  meeting,  and  offered  to  act  until 
Rivington  could  be  notified.  "I  think,"  he  said,  "that 
we  ought  to  lay  out  our  programme." 

The  labor  agitator  agreed  with  him,  and,  rising,  deliv- 
ered an  extempore  speech,  declaring  that  "we  must  not 
delay.  The  leeches  (here  he  looked  at  Mr.  Pell)  are  suck- 
ing the  life-blood  of  the  people,"  etc. 

The  chairman  started  to  call  him  to  order,  but  Peter 
put  his  hand  on  the  chairman's  arm.  "  If  you  stop  him," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  hell  think  we  are  against  him, 
and  he'll  say  so  outside." 

"  But  it's  such  foolishness." 

"  And  so  harmless  !  While  he's  talking,  look  over  this. " 
Peter  produced  an  outline  of  action  which  he  had  drawn 


COMMISSIONS. 


'59 


up,  and  having  written  it  in  duplicate,  he  parsed  one  draft 
over  to  Mr.  Pell. 

They  all  let  the  speech  go  on,  Peter,  Mr.  Pell  and  the 
chairman  chatting  over  the  plan,  while  the  contractor 
went  to  sleep.  The  agitator  tried  to  continue,  but  as  the 
inattention  became  more  and  more  evident,  his  speech 
became  tamer  and  tamer.  Finally  he  said,  "  That  is  my 
opinion,"  and  sat  down. 

The  cessation  of  the  oration  waked  up  the  contractor, 
and  Peter's  outline  was  read  aloud. 

"I  don't  move  its  adoption,"  said  Peter.  "I  merely 
submit  it  as  a  basis." 

Not  one  of  the  members  had  come  prepared  with  knowl- 
edge of  how  to  go  to  work,  except  the  chairman,  who 
had  served  on  other  commissions.  He  said  : 

"I  think  Mr.  Stirling's  scheme  shows  very  careful 
thought,  and  is  admirable.  We  cannot  do  better  than 
adopt  it." 

"  It  is  chiefly  copied  from  the  German  committee  of 
three  years  ago/'  Peter  told  them.  "  But  I  have  tried  to 
modify  it  to  suit  the  different  conditions." 

Mr.  Pell  objected  to  the  proposed  frequent  sittings. 
Thereupon  the  agitator  praised  that  feature.  The  hour  of 
meeting  caused  discussion.  But  finally  the  scheme  was 
adopted,  and  the  date  of  the  first  session  fixed. 

Peter  went  downstairs  with  Mr.  Pell,  and  the  latter  of- 
fered to  drop  him  at  his  office.  So  they  drove  off  together, 
and  talked  about  the  Commission. 

"That  Kurfeldt  is  going  to  be  a  nuisance,"  said  Pell. 

"I  can't  say  yet.  He  evidently  has  no  idea  of  what 
our  aim  is.  Perhaps,  though,  when  we  really  get  to 
work,  he'll  prove  useful." 

Peter  had  a  call  the  next  day  from  Rivington.  It  was 
made  up  of  thanks,  of  college  chat,  and  of  inquiry  as  to 
duties.  Peter  outlined  the  preliminary  work,  drafted  the 
"  Inquiries  "  and  other  printed  papers  necessary  to  be  sent 
out  before  the  first  meeting,  and  told  him  about  the  pro- 
cedure at  the  meetings. 

"  I  know  I  shall  get  into  all  kinds  of  pickles,"  said  Ray. 
"I  write  such  a  bad  hand  that  often  I  can't  read  it  my- 
self. How  the  deuce  am  I  to  take  down  evidence?" 

"I  shall  make  notes  for  my  own  use,  and  you  will  be 
welcome  to  them,  if  they  will  help  you." 


l6o  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Thanks,  Peter.     That's  like  you." 

The  Commission  began  its  inquiry,  on  the  date  fixed, 
and  met  three  times  a  week  from  that  time  on.  Peter  did 
not  try  to  push  himself  forward,  but  he  was  by  far  the  best 
prepared  on  the  subject,  and  was  able  to  suggest  the  best 
sources  of  information.  He  asked  good  questions,  too, 
of  the  various  witnesses  summoned.  Finally  he  was  the 
one  regular  attendant,  and  therefore  was  the  one  appealed 
to  for  information  elicited  at  previous  meetings.  He 
found  the  politician  his  best  helper.  Pell  was  useful  when 
he  attended,  which  was  not  very  often,  and  even  this 
intermittent  attendance  ceased  in  June.  "I'm  going  to 
Newport,"  he  explained,  and  did  not  appear  again  till  late 
in  the  fall.  The  contractor  really  took  no  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings beyond  a  fairly  frequent  attendance,  and  an  oc- 
casional fit  of  attention  whenever  the  inquiry  related  to 
building.  The  labor-agitator  proved  quite  a  good  man. 
He  had,  it  is  true,  no  memory,  and  caused  them  to  waste 
much  time  in  reading  over  the  minutes  of  previous  meet- 
ings. But  he  was  in  earnest,  and  proved  to  be  perfectly 
reasonable  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the  commissioners' 
duties  were  to  inquire  and  not  to  make  speeches.  Peterj 
walked  home  with  him  several  times,  and  they  spen| 
evenings  together  in  Peter's  rooms,  talking  over  the  evil 
dence,  and  the  possibilities. 

Peter  met  a  great  many  different  men  in  the  course  of 
the  inquiry  ;  landlords,  real-estate  agents,  architects,  en- 
gineers, builders,  plumbers,  health  officials,  doctors  and 
tenants.  In  many  cases  he  went  to  see  these  persons  after 
they  had  been  before  the  Commission,  and  talked  with 
them,  finding  that  they  were  quite  willing  to  give  facts 
in  private  which  they  did  not  care  to  have  put  on  record. 

He  had  been  appointed  the  Secretary  of  the  Food  Com- 
mission, and  spent  much  time  on  that  work.  He  was 
glad  to  find  that  he  had  considerable  influence,  and  that 
Green  not  merely  acted  on  his  suggestions,  but  encouraged 
him  to  make  them.  The  two  inquiries  were  so  germane 
that  they  helped  him  reciprocally.  No  reports  were 
needed  till  the  next  meeting  of  the  Legislature,  in  the 
following  January,  and  so  the  two  commissions  took 
enough  evidence  to  swamp  them.  Poor  Ray  was  reduced 
almost  to  despair  over  the  mass  of  "rubbish"  as  he  called 
it,  which  he  would  subsequently  have  to  put  in  order. 


IN  THE  MEANTIME.  16* 

Between  the  two  tasks,  Peter's  time  was  well-nigh  used 
up.  It  was  especially  drawn  upon  when  the  taking  of 
evidence  ceased  and  the  drafting  of  the  reports  began. 
Ray's  notes  proved  hopeless,  so  Peter  copied  out  his  neatly, 
and  let  Ray  have  them,  rather  glad  that  irrelevant  and  use- 
less evidence  was  thus  omitted.  It  was  left  to  Peter  to 
draw  the  report,  and  when  his  draft  was  submitted,  it  was 
accompanied  by  a  proposed  General  Tenement-house  Bill. 
Both  report  and  bill  were  slightly  amended,  but  not  in  a 
way  that  Peter  minded. 

Peter  drew  the  Food-Commission  report  as  well,  although 
it  went  before  the  Commission  as  Green's.  To  this,  too, 
a  proposed  bill  was  attached,  which  had  undergone  the 
scrutiny  of  the  Health  Board,  and  had  been  conformed  to 
their  suggestions. 

In  November  Peter  carried  both  reports  to  Albany,  and 
had  a  long  talk  with  Catlin  over  them.  That  official 
would  have  preferred  no  reports,  but  since  they  were 
made,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  submit  them  to  the 
Legislature.  Peter  did  not  get  much  encouragement  from 
him  about  the  chances  for  the  bills.  But  Costell  told  him 
that  they  could  be  "  whipped  through.  The  only  danger 
is  of  their  being  amended  so  as  to  spoil  them." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  <(  I  feope  they  will  be  passed.  I've 
done  my  best,  whatever  happens." 

A  very  satisfactory  thing  to  be  able  to  say  of  yourself, 
if  you  believe  in  your  own  truthfulness. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
IN  THE    MEANTIME. 

IN  spite  of  nine  months'  hard  work  on  the  two  Com- 
missions, it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Peter's  time  was 
thus  entirely  monopolized.  If  one  spends  but  seven  hours 
of  the  twenty-four  in  sleep,  and  but  two  more  OH  meals, 
there  is  considerable  remaining  time,  and  even  so  slow  a 
worker  as  Peter  found  spare  hours  not  merely  for  society 
and  saloons,  but  for  what  else  he  chose  to  undertake. 

Socially  he  had  an  evening  with  Mis^s  £>e  Voe,  just  before 
she  left  the  city  for  the  summer  ;  a  dHler  with  Mr.  Pell, 
II 


162  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

who  seemed  to  have  taken  a  liking  to  Peter  ;  a  call  on 
Lispenard  ;  another  on  Le  Grand;  and  a  family  meal  at 
the  Rivingtons,  where  he  was  made  much  of  in  return  for 
his  aid  to  Ray. 

In  the  saloons  he  worked  hard  over  the  coming  primary, 
and  spent  evenings  as  well  on  doorsteps  in  the  district,  talk- 
ing over  objects  and  candidates.  In  the  same  cause,  he 
saw  much  of  Costell,  Green,  Gallagher,  Schlurger  and 
many  other  party  men  of  greater  or  less  note  in  the  city's 
politics.  He  had  become  a  recognized  quantity  in  the 
control  of  the  district,  and  the  various  ward  factions  tried 
hard  to  gain  his  support.  When  the  primary  met,  the 
proceedings,  if  exciting,  were  never  for  a  moment  doubt- 
ful, for  Gallagher,  Peter,  Moriarty  and  Blunkers  had  been 
able  to  agree  on  both  programme  and  candidates.  An 
attempt  had  been  made  to  "turn  down"  Schlurger/ but 
Peter  had  opposed  it,  and  had  carried  his  point,  to  the 
great  gratitude  of  the  silent,  honest  German.  What  was 
more  important  to  him,  this  had  all  been  done  without 
exciting  hard  feelings. 

" Stirling's  a  reasonable  fellow,"  Gallagher  told  Costell, 
not  knowing  how  much  Peter  was  seeing  of  the  big  leader, 
"and  he  isn't  dead  set  on  carrying  his  own  schemes. 
We've  never  had  so  little  talk  qfifmutiny  and  sulking  as  we 
have  had  this  spring.  Moriarty  and  Blunkers  swear  by 
him.  It's  queer.  They've  always  been  on  opposite  sides 
till  now/' 

When  the  weather  became  pleasant,  Peter  took  up  his 
41  angle"  visitings  again,  though  not  with  quite  the  former 
regularity.  Yet  he  rarely  let  a  week  pass  without  having 
spent  a  couple  of  evenings  there.  The  spontaneous  wel- 
come accorded  him  was  payment  enough  for  the  time,  let 
alone  the  pleasure  and  enjoyment  he  derived  from  the 
imps.  There  was  little  that  could  raise  Peter  in  their 
estimation,  but  they  understood  very  well  that  he  had 
become  a  man  of  vast  importance,  as  it  seemed  to  them. 
They  had  sharp  little  minds  and  ears,  and  had  caught 
what  the  "district"  saioand  thought  of  Peter. 

"Cheese  it,  the  cop, Tim,"  cried  an  urchin  one  evening 
to  another,  who  was  about  to  "play  ball." 

"Cheese  it  yerself.  He  won't  dare  tech  me,"  shouted 
Tim,  "so  long-  as  Bister  Peter's  here." 

That  speech  alette  showed  the  magnitude  of  his  position 


IN  THE  MEANTIME.  163 

in  their  eyes.  He  was  now  not  merely,  "friends  wid  de 
perlice ;  "  he  was  held  in  fear  by  that  awesome  body  ! 

"  If  I  was  as  big  as  him/'  said  one,  "  I'd  fire  all  the 
peelers. v 

"Wouldn't  that  be  dandy  I  "  cried  another. 

He  won  their  hearts  still  further  by  something  he  did  in 
midsummer.  Blunkers  had  asked  him  to  attend  what 
brilliant  posters  throughout  that  part  of  the  city  announced 
as : 

HO  FOR  THE  SEA-SHORE  I 

SIXTH  ANNUAL 

CLAM     BAKE 

OF   THE 

PATRICK  N.  BLUNKERS'S  ASSOCIATION. 

When  Peter  asked,  he  found  that  it  was  to  consist  of  a 
barge  party  (tickets  fifty  cents)  to  a  bit  of  sand  not  far 
away  from  the  city,  with  music,  clams,  bathing  and  danc- 
ing included  in  the  price  of  the  ticket,  and  unlimited  beer 
for  those  who'  could  afford  that  beverage. 

"The  beer  just  pays  for  it,"  Blunkers  explained.      "1 

don't  give  um  whisky  cat®  some cusses  don't  drink 

like  as  dey  orter."  Then  catching  a  look  in  Peter's  face, 
he  laughed  rather  shamefacedly.  "I  forgits,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  Yersee  I'm  so  da "  he  checked  himself — 

"I  swears  widout  knowin'  it." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  go,"  said  Peter. 

"  Dat's  bully,"  said  Blunkers.  Then  he  added 
anxiously:  "  Dere's  somethin'  else,  too,  since  yer  goin'. 
Ginerally  some  feller  makes  a  speech.  Yer  wouldn't 
want  to  do  it  dis  time,  would  yer  ?  " 

"What  do  they  talk  about  ?  " 

•    "  Just  what  dey "  Blunkers  swallowed  a  word,  nearly 

choking  in  so  doing,  and  ended  "please." 

"Yes.  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk,  if  you  don't  mind  my 
taking  a  dull  subject?  " 

"  Yer  just  talk  what  yer  want.     We'll  listen." 

After  Peter  had  thought  it  over  for  a  day,  he  went  to 
Blunkers's  gin  palace. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  "Would  it  be  possible  to  hire 
One  more  barge,  and  take  the  children  free  ?  I'll  pay  for 


164  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

the  boat,  and  for  the  extra  food,  if  they  won't  be  in  thfc 
way." 

"I'm  damned  if  yer  do,"  shouted  Blunkers.  "Yer 
don't  pay  for  nothinks,  but  der  childers  shall  go,  or  my 
name  ain't  Blunkers." 

And  go  they  did,  Blunkers  making  no  secret  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  Peter's  idea.  So  every  child  who  went,  nearly 
wild  with  delight,  felt  that  the  sail,  the  sand,  the  sea,  and 
the  big  feed,  was  all  owed  to  Peter. 

It  was  rather  an  amusing  experience  to  Peter.  He  found 
many  of  his  party  friends  in  the  district,  not  excluding 
such  men  as  Gallagher,  Kennedy  and  others  of  the  more 
prominent  rank.  He  made  himself  very  pleasant  to  those 
whom  he  knew,  chatting  with  them  on  the  trip  down. 
He  went  into  the  water  with  the  men  and  boys,  and 
though  there  were  many  good  swimmers,  Peter's  country 
and  river  training  made  it  possible  for  him  to  give  even 
the  "  wharf  rats/'  a  point  or  two  in  the  way  of  water 
feats.  Then  came  the  regulation  clam-bake,  after  which 
Peter  talked  about  the  tenement-house  question  for  twenty 
minutes.  The  speech  was  very  different  from  what  they 
expected,  and  rather  disappointed  them  all.  However,  he 
won  back  their  good  opmioafc  in  closing,  for  he  ended 
with  a  very  pleasant  "  thank^jpxm,"  to  Blunkers,  so  neatly 
worded,  and  containing  such  a  thoroughly  apt  local  joke, 
that  it  put  all  in  a  good  humor,  and  gave  them  something 
to  tell  their  neighbors,  on  their  return  home.  The  advan- 
tage of  seldom  joking  is  that  people  remember  the  joke, 
and  it  gets  repeated.  Peter  almost  got  the  reputation  of 
a  wit  on  that  one  joke,  merely  because  it  came  after  a 
serious  harangue,  and  happened  to  be  quotable.  Blunkers 
was  so  pleased  with  the  end  of  the  speech  that  he  got 
Peter  to  write  it  out,  and  to  this  day  the  "  thank  you" 
part  of  the  address,  in  Peter's  neat  handwriting,  hand- 
somely framed,  is  to  be  seen  in  Blunkers 's  saloon. 

Peter  also  did  a  little  writing  this  summer.  He  had  gone 
to  see  three  or  four  of  the  reporters,  whom  he  had  met  in 
"the  case,"  to  get  them  to  write  up  the  Food  and  Tene- 
ment subjects,  wishing  thereby  to  stir  up  public  feeling. 
He  was  successful  to  a  certain  degree,  and  they  not 
merely  wrote  articles  themselves,  but  printed  three  or  four 
which  Peter  wrote.  In  two  cases,  he  was  introduced  to 
"  staff "  writers,  and  even  wrote  an  editorial,  for  which 


IN  THE  MEANTIME.  1 6$ 

he  was  paid  fifteen  dollars.  This  money  was  all  he 
received  for  the  time  spent,  but  he  was  not  working  for 
shekels.  All  the  men  told  him  to  let  them  know  when  he 
had  more  "stories"  for  them,  and  promised  him  assist- 
ance when  the  reports  should  go  in  to  the  legislature. 

Peter  visited  his  mother  as  usual  during  August.  Be- 
fore going,  he  called  on  Dr.  Plumb,  and  after  an  evening 
with  him,  went  to  two  tenements  in  the  district.  As  the 
result  of  these  calls,  he  carried  three  children  with  him 
when  he  went  home.  Rather  pale,  thin  little  waifs.  It 
is  a  serious  matter  to  charge  any  one  with  so  grave  a  crime 
as  changling,  but  Peter  laid  himself  open  to  it,  for  when 
he  came  back,  after  two  weeks,  he  returned  very  different 
children  to  the  parents.  The  fact  that  they  did  not 
prosecute  for  the  substitution  only  proves  how  little  the 
really  poor  care  for  their  offspring. 

But  this  was  not  his  only  summering.  He  spent  four 
days  with  the  Costells,  as  well  as  two  afternoons  later, 
thoroughly  enjoying,  not  merely  the  long,  silent  drives 
over  the  country  behind  the  fast  horses,  but  the  pottering 
round  the  flower-garden  with  Mrs.  Costell.  He  had  been 
reading  up  a  little  on  flowers  and  gardening,  and  he  was 
glad  to  swap  his  theoretical  for  her  practical  knowledge. 
Candor  compels  the  statement  that  he  enjoyed  the  long: 
hours  stretched  on  the  turf,  or  sitting  idly  on  the  veranda, 
puffing  Mr.  Costell's  good  Havanas. 

Twice  Mr.  Bohlmann  stopped  at  Peter's  office  of  a 
Saturday  and  took  him  out  to  stay  over  Sunday  at  his  villa 
in  one  of  the  Oranges.  The  family  all  liked  Peter  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  show  it.  Mr.  Bohlmann  told  him  : 

"  I  sbend  about  dree  dousand  a  year  on  law  und  law- 
babers.  Misder  Dummer  id  does  for  me,  but  ven  he  does 
nod  any  longer  it  do,  I  gifts  id  you/' 

On  the  second  visit  Mrs.  Bohlmann  said  : 

"I  tell  my  good  man  that  with  all  the  law-business  he 
has,  he  must  get  a  lawyer  for  a  son-in-law." 

Peter  had  not  heard  Mrs.  Bohlmann  say  to  her  husband 
the  evening  before,  as  they  were  prinking  for  dinner  : 

"  Have  you  told  Mr.  Stirling  about  your  law  business  ?  '* 

Nor  Mr.  Bohlmann's  prompt  : 

"  Yah.     I  dells  him  der  last  dime. " 

Yet  Peter  wondered  if  there  were  any  connection  be- 
tween the  two  statements.  He  liked  the  two  girls.  They 


j66  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

were  nice-looking,  sweet,  sincere  women.  He  knew  that 
Mr.  Bohlmann  was  ranked  as  a  millionaire  already,  and 
was  growing1  richer  fast.  Yet — Peter  needed  no  blank 
walls. 

During  this  summer,  Peter  had  a  little  more  law  prac- 
tice. A  small  grocer  in  one  of  the  tenements  came  to 
him  about  a  row  with  his  landlord.  Peter  heard  him 
through,  and  then  said  :  "  I  don't  see  that  you  have  any 
case ;  but  if  you  will  leave  it  to  me  to  do  as  I  think  best, 
I'll  try  if  I  can  do  something,"  and  the  man  agreeing, 
Peter  went  to  see  the  landlord,  a  retail  tobacconist  up-town. 

"I  don't  think  my  client  has  any  legal  grounds,"  he 
told  the  landlord,  "  but  he  thinks  that  he  has,  and  the 
case  does  seem  a  little  hard.  Such  material  repairs  could 
not  have  been  foreseen  when  the  lease  was  made." 

The  tobacconist  was  rather  obstinate  at  first.  Finally 
he  said,  "Til  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  contribute  one 
hundred  dollars  towards  the  repairs,  if  you'll  make  a 
tenant  named  Podds  in  the  same  building  pay  his  rent ; 
or  dispossess  him  if  he  doesn't,  so  that  it  shan't  cost  me 
anything." 

Peter  agreed,  and  went  to  see  the  tenant  in  arrears.  He 
found  that  the  man  had  a  bad  rheumatism  and  consequently 
was  unable  to  work.  The  wife  was  doing  what  she  could, 
and  even  the  children  had  been  sent  on  the  streets  to  sell 
papers,  or  by  other  means,  to  earn  what  they  could. 
They  also  owed  a  doctor  and  the  above-mentioned 
grocer.  Peter  went  back  to  the  landlord  and  told  him 
the  story. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it's  a  hard  case,  I  know,  but,  Mr. 
Stirling,  I  owe  a  mortgage  on  the  place,  and  the  interest 
falls  due  in  September.  I'm  out  four  months'  rent,  and 
really  can't  afford  any  more."  So  Peter  took  thirty-two 
dollars  from  his  "Trustee"  fund,  and  sent  it  to  the  tobac- 
conist. "  I  have  deducted  eight  dollars  for  collection," 
he  wrote.  Then  he  saw  his  first  client,  and  told  him  of 
his  landlord's  concession. 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you  ? "  inquired  the  grocer. 

"The  Podds  tell  me  they  owe  you  sixteen  dollars. 

"Yes.     I  shan't  get  it." 

"  My  fee  is  twenty-five.  Mark  off  their  bill  and  give 
me  the  balance." 

The  grocer  smiled  cheerfully.     He  had  charged  the 


A  "COMEDY."  167 

Podds  roundly  for  their  credit,  taking  his  chance  of  pay, 
and  now  got  it  paid  in  an  equivalent  of  cash.  He  gave 
the  nine  dollars  with  alacrity. 

Peter  took  it  upstairs  and  gave  it  to  Mrs.  Podds.  "If 
things  look  up  with  you  later/'  he  said,  ''you  can  pay  it 
back.  If  not,  don't  trouble  about  it.  I'll  look  in  in  a 
couple  of  weeks  to  see  how  things  are  going." 

When  this  somewhat  complicated  matter  was  ended, 
he  wrote  about  it  to  his  mother  : 

"  Many  such  cases  would  bankrupt  me.  As  it  is,  my  fund  is  dwin- 
dling faster  than  I  like  to  see,  though  every  lessening  of  it  means  a  les- 
sening of  real  trouble  to  some  one.  I  should  like  to  tell  Miss  De  Voe 
what  good  her  money  has  done  already,  but  fear  she  would  not  under 
stand  why  I  told  her.  It  has  enabled  me  to  do  so  much  that  otherwise 
I  could  not  have  afforded.  There  is  only  one  hundred  and  seventy-six 
dollars  left.  Most  of  it  though,  is  merely  loaned  and  perhaps  will  be 
repaid.  Anyway,  I  shall  have  nearly  six  hundred  dollars  for  my  work  as 
secretary  of  the  Food  Commission,  and  I  shall  give  half  of  it  to  this, 
fund." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
A  "COMEDY." 

WHEN  the  season  began  again,  Miss  De  Voe  seriously, 
undertook   her   self-imposed  work  of  introducing  Peter.  ' 
He  was  twice  invited  to  dinner  and  was  twice  taken  with 
opera  parties  to  sit  in  her  box,  besides  receiving  a  number 
of  less  important  attentions.     Peter  accepted  dutifully  all 
that  she  offered  him.      Even   ordered  a  new  dress-suit  of 
a  tailor  recommended  by   Lispenard.      He  was  asked  by 
some  of  the   people  he  met  to  call,    probably  on  Miss 
De  Voe's  suggestion,  and  he  dutifully  called.     Yet  at  the 
end  of  three  months  Miss  De  Voe  shook  her  head. 

11  He  is  absolutely  a  gentleman,  and  people  seem  to 
like  him.  Yet  somehow — I  don't  understand  it." 

"  Exactly,"  laughed  Lispenard.  "  You  can't  make  a  silk 
purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear." 

"  Lispenard,"  angrily  said  Miss  De  Voe,  "  Mr.  Stirling 
is  as  much  better  than " 

"That'  it,"  said  Lispenard.  "Don't  think  I'm  depre- 
ciating Peter.  The  trouble  is  that  he  is  much  too  good  a 
chap  to  make  into  a  society  or  a  lady's  man." 


j68  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right.  I  don't  think  he  cares  for  it 
at  all." 

"  No,"  said  Lispenard.  "  '  Barkis  is  not  willing  I  think 
lie  likes  you,  and  sirhply  goes  to  please  you." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that's  it  ?  " 

Lispenard  laughed  at  the  earnestness  with  which  the 
question  was  asked.  "No,"  he  replied.  "I  was  joking. 
Peter  cultivates  you,  because  he  wants  to  know  your 
swell  friends." 

Either  this  conversation  or  Miss  De  Voe's  own  thoughts, 
led  to  a  change  in  her  course.  Invitations  to  formal 
dinners  and  to  the  opera  suddenly  ceased,  and  instead, 
little  family  dinners,  afternoons  in  galleries,  and  evenings 
at  concerts  took  their  place.  Sometimes  Lispenard  went 
with  them,  sometimes  one  of  the  Ogden  girls,  sometimes 
they  went  alone.  It  was  an  unusual  week  when  Peter's 
mail  did  not  now  bring  at  least  one  little  note  giving  him 
a  chance  to  see  Miss  De  Voe  if  he  chose. 

In  February  came  a  request  for  him  to  call.  "I  want 
to  talk  with  you  about  something,"  it  said.  That  same 
evening  he  was  shown  into  her  drawing-rooms.  She 
thanked  him  with  warmth  for  coming  so  quickly,  and 
Peter  saw  that  only  the  other  visitors  prevented  her  from 
showing  some  strong  feeling.  He  had  stumbled  in  on 
her  evening — for  at  that  time  people  still  had  evenings — 
but  knowing  her  wishes,  he  stayed  till  they  were  left  alone 
together. 

"Come  into  the  library, "she  said.  As  they  passed 
across  the  hall  she  told  Morden,  "  I  shall  not  receive  any 
more  to-night." 

The  moment  they  were  in  the  smaller  and  cosier  room, 
without  waiting  to  sit  even,  she  began  :  "Mr.  Stirling,  I 
dined  at  the  Manfreys  yesterday."  She  spoke  in  a  voice 
evidently  endeavoring  not  to  break.  Peter  looked 
puzzled. 

"Mr.  Lapham,  the  bank  president,  was  there." 

Peter  still  looked  puzzled. 

"And  he  told  the  table  about  a  young  lawyer  who  had 
very  little  money,  yet  who  put  five  hundred  dollars — his 
first   fee — into  his    bank,   and   had   used   it  to  help — 
Miss  De  Voe  broke  down,  and,  leaning  against  the  mantel, 
buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

"  It's  curious  you  should  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Peter. 


A  "COMEDY?  X60 

"  He — he  didn't  mention  names,  b-bu-but  I  knew,  of 
course/' 

"  I  didn't  like  to  speak  of  it  because — well — I've  wanted 
to  tell  you  the  good  it's  done.  Suppose  you  sit  down." 
Peter  brought  a  chair,  and  Miss  De  Voe  took  it. 

"You  must  think  I'm  very  foolish,"  she  said,  wiping 
her  eyes. 

"  It's  nothing  to  cry  about."  And  Peter  began  telling 
her  of  some  of  the  things  which  he  had  been  able  to  do  : 
—of  the  surgical  brace  it  had  bought ;  of  the  lessons 
in  wood-engraving  it  had  given  ;  of  the  sewing-machine  it 
had  helped  to  pay  for  ;  of  the  arrears  in  rent  it  had  settled. 
"You  see,"  he  explained,  "  these  people  are  too  self-re- 
specting to  go  to  the  big  charities,  or  to  rich  people.  But 
their  troubles  are  talked  over  in  the  saloons  and  on  the 
door-steps,  so  I  hear  of  them,  and  can  learn  whether 
they  really  deserve  help.  They'll  take  it  from  me,  be- 
cause they  feel  that  I'm  one  of  them." 

Miss  De  Voe  was  too  much  shaken  by  her  tears  to  talk 
that  evening.  Miss  De  Voe's  life  and  surroundings  were 
not  exactly  weepy  ones,  and  when  tears  came  they  meant 
much.  She  said  little,  till  Peter  rose  to  go,  and  then 
only  : 

"  I  shall  want  to  talk  with  you,  to  see  what  I  can 
do  to  help  you  in  your  work.  Please  come  again  soon. 
I  ought  not  to  have  brought  you  here  this  evening,  only 
to  see  me  cry  like  a  baby.  But — I  had  done  you  such 
injustice  in  my  mind  about  that  seven  dollars,  and  then 
to  find  that — Oh  1 "  Miss  De  Voe  showed  signs  of  a  recur- 
ring break-down,  but  mastered  herself.  "  Good-evening. " 

Peter  gone,  Miss  De  Voe  had  another  "good"  cry—- 
which is  a  feminine  phrase,  quite  incomprehensible  to 
men — and,  going  to  her  room,  bathed  her  eyes.  Then  she 
sat  before  her  boudoir  fire,  thinking.  Finally  she  rose. 
In  leaving  the  fire,  she  remarked  aloud  to  it: 

"  Yes.     He  shall  have  Dorothy,  if  I  can  do  it." 

So  Dorothy  became  a  pretty  regular  addition  to  the  in- 
formal meals,  exhibitions  and  concerts.  Peter  was  once 
more  taken  to  the  opera,  but  Dorothy  and  Miss  DC  Voe 
formed  with  him  the  party  in  the  box  on  such  nights. 
Miss  De  Voe  took  him  to  call  on  Mrs.  Odgen,  and  sang 
his  praises  to  both  parents.  She  even  went  so  far  as  to 
say  frankly  to  them  what  was  in  her  mind. 


lyo  -  ..^NORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Mr.  Ogden  said,  "Those  who  know  him  speak  very 
well  of  him.  I  heard  '  Van  '  Pell  praise  him  highly  at 
Newport  last  summer.  Said  all  the  politicians  thought  of 
him  as  a  rising  man." 

"He  seems  a  nice  steady  fellow,"  said  the  mamma.  "I 
don't  suppose  he  has  much  practice  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  think  of  the  money,"  said  Miss  De  Voe. 
"What  is  that  compared  to  getting  a  really  fine  man 
whom  one  can  truly  love?" 

"Still,  money  is  an  essential,"  said  the  papa. 

"Yes.  But  you  both  know  what  I  intend  to  do  for 
Dorothy  and  Minna.  They  need  not  think  of  money. 
If  he  and  Dorothy  only  will  care  for  each  other  !  " 

Peter  and  Dorothy  did  like  each  other.  Dorothy  was 
very  pretty,  and  had  all  the  qualities  which  make  a  girl 
a  strong  magnet  to  men.  Peter  could  not  help  liking  her. 
As  for  Dorothy,  she  was  like  other  women.  She  enjoyed  the 
talking,  joking,  "good-time"  men  in  society,  and  chatted 
and  danced  with  them  with  relish.  But  like  other  women, 
when  she  thought  of  marriage,  she  did  not  find  these 
gingerbread  ornamentations  so  attractive.  The  average 
woman  loves  a  man,  aside  from  his  love  for  her,  ?for  his 
physical  strength,  and  his  stiff  truth- telling!  The  'first  is 
attractive  to  her  because  she  has  it  not.  Far  be  it  from 
man  to  say  why  the  second  attracts.  So  Dorothy  liked 
Peter.  She  admired  many  qualities  in  him  which  she  would 
not  have  tolerated  in  other  men.  It  is  true  that  she 
laughed  at  him,  too,  for  many  things,  but  it  was  the 
laughter  of  that  peculiar  nature  which  implies  admiration 
and  approval,  rather  than  the  lower  feelings.  When  the 
spring  separation  came,  Miss  De  Voe  was  really  quite 
hopeful. 

"I  think  things  have  gone  very  well.  Now,  Mr.  Stir- 
ling has  promised  to  spend  a  week  with  me  at  Newport. 
I  shall  have  Dorothy  there  at  the  same  time,"  she  told 
Mrs.  Ogden. 

Lispenard,  who  was  present,  laughed  as  usual.  "So 
you  are  tired  of  your  new  plaything  already?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Arn't  you  marrying  him  so  as  to  get  rid  of  his  calls, 
and  his  escortage  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.     We  shall  go  on  just  the  same." 

"Bully  for  you,  Ma.     Does  Dr.  Brown  know  it?" 


A  "COMEDY."  171 

Miss  De  Voe  flushed  angrily,  and  put  an  endtohercalL 
"What  a  foolish  fellow  Lispenard  is  !  "  she  remarked  un- 
consciously to  Wellington  at  the  carnage  door. 

"  Beg  pardon,  mum  ?  "  said  Wellington,  blank  wonder- 
ment filling  his  face. 

"  Home,  Wellington,"  said  Miss  De  Voe  crossly. 

Peter  took  his  week  at  Newport  on  his  way  back  from 
his  regular  August  visit  to  his  mother.  Miss  De  Voe  had 
told  him  casually  that  Dorothy  would  be  there,  and  Dor- 
othy was  there.  Yet  he  saw  wonderfully  little  of  her.  It 
is  true  that  he  could  have  seen  more  if  he  had  tried,  but 
Peter  was  not  used  to  practice  finesse  to  win  minutes  and 
hours  with  a  girl,  and  did  not  feel  called  upon,  bluntly,  to 
take  such  opportunities.  His  stay  was  not  so  pleasant 
as  he  had  expected.  He  had  thought  a  week  in  the  same 
house  with  Miss  De  Voe,  Dorothy  and  Lispenard,  without 
much  regard  to  other  possible  guests,  could  not  but  be  a 
continual  pleasure.  But  he  was  conscious  that  something 
was  amiss  with  his  three  friends.  Nor  was  Peter  the  only 
one  who  felt  it.  Dorothy  said  to  her  family  when  she 
went  home  : 

"I  can't  imagine  what  is  the  matter  with  Cousin  An- 
neke.  All  last  spring  she  was  nicer  to  me  than  she  has 
ever  been  before,  but  from  the  moment  I  arrived  at  New- 
port, and  before  I  could  possibly  have  said  or  done  any- 
thing to  offend  her,  she  treated  me  in  the  snippiest  way. 
After  two  days  I  asked  her  what  the  matter  was,  but  she 
insisted  there  was  nothing,  and  really  lost  her  temper 
at  my  suggesting  the  idea.  There  was  something,  I 
know,  for  when  I  said  I  was  coming  home  sooner  than  I 
had  at  first  intended,  she  didn't  try  to  make  me  stay." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Ogden,  "she  was  disappointed 
in  something,  and  so  vented  her  feeling  on  you." 

"But  she  wasn't  cross — except  when  I  asked  her  what 
the  matter  was.  She  was  just — just  snippy." 

"  Was  Mr.  Stirling  there  ?  " 

"Yes.  And  a  lot  of  other  people.  I  don't  think  any- 
body had  a  good  time,  unless  it  was  Cousin  Lispenard. 
And  he  wasn't  a  bit  nice.  He  had  some  joke  to  himself, 
and  kept  making  remarks  that  nobody  could  understand, 
and  chuckling  over  them.  I  told  him  once  that  he  was 
rude,  but  he  said  that  '  when  people  went  to  a  play  they 
should  laugh  at  the  right  points/  That's  the  nice  thing 


x;2  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

about  Mr.  Stirling.     You  know  that  what  he  says  is  the 
real  truth/' 

"Lispenard's  always  trying  to  be  clever. " 

"Yes.  What  do  you  suppose  he  said  to  me  as  I  came 
away  !  " 

"What?" 

"  He  shook  my  hand,  laughing,  and  said,  'Exit  villain. 
It  is  to  be  a  comedy,  not  a  tragedy.'  What  could  he 
mean  ?  " 

Lispenard  stayed  on  to  see  the  ' '  comedy, "  and  seemed  to 
enjoy  it,  if  the  amused  expression  on  his  face  when  he  oc- 
casionally gave  himself  up  to  meditation  was  any  criterion. 
Peter  had  been  pressed  to  stay  beyond  the  original  week, 
and  had  so  far  yielded  as  to  add  three  days  to  his  visit. 
These  last  three  days  were  much  pleasanter  than  those 
which  had  gone  before,  although  Dorothy  had  departed 
and  Peter  liked  Dorothy.  But  he  saw  much  more  of  Miss 
De  Voe,  and  Miss  De  Voe  was  in  a  much  pleasanter 
mood.  They  took  long  drives  and  walks  together,  and 
had  long  hours  of  talk  in  and  about  the  pleasant  house 
and  grounds.  Miss  De  Voe  had  cut  down  her  social 
duties  for  the  ten  days  Peter  was  there,  giving  far  more 
time  for  them  to  kill  than  usually  fell  to  Newporters  even 
in  those  comparitively  simple  days. 

In  one  of  these  talks,  Miss  De  Voe  spoke  of  Dorothy. 

"She  is  such  a  nice,  sweet  girl/'  she  said.  "  We  all 
liope  she'll  marry  Lispenard/' 

"Do  you  think  cousins  ought  to  marry?" 

Miss  De  Voe  had  looked  at  Peter  when  she  made  her 
remark.  Peter  had  replied  quietly,  but  his  question,  as 
Miss  De  Voe  understood  it,  was  purely  scientific,  not  per- 
sonal. Miss  De  Voe  replied  : 

"  I  suppose  it  is  not  right,  but  it  is  so  much  better  than 
what  may  happen,  that  it  really  seems  best.  It  is  so 
hard  for  a  girl  in  Dorothy's  position  to  marry  as  we  should 
altogether  wish." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Peter,  who  did  not  see  that  a  girl  with 
prospective  wealth,  fine  social  position,  and  personal 
charm,  was  not  necessarily  well  situated-  to  get  the  right 
kind  of  a  husband 

"It  is  hard  to  make  it  clear — but — I'll  tell  you  my  own 
story,  so  that  you  can  understand.  Since  you  don't  ask 
questions,  I  will  take  the  initiative.  That  is,  unless  your 


A  "COM££>Y."  173 

not  asking  them  means  you  are  not  interested  ?  "  Miss  De 
Voe  laughed  in  the  last  part  of  this  speech. 

"I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

People,  no  matter  what  Peter  stated,  never  said 
* '  Really  ?  "  ' '  You  are  in  earnest  ?  "  or  * '  You  really  mean 
it?  "  So  Miss  De  Voe  took  him  at  his  word. 

"Both  my  father  and  mother  were  rich  before  they 
married,  and  the  rise  in  New  York  real  estate  made  them 
in  time,  much  richer.  They  both  belonged  to  old  families. 
I  was  the  only  child — Lispenard  says  old  families  are  so 
proud  of  themselves  that  they  don't  dare  to  have  large 
families  for  fear  of  making  the  name  common.  Of  course 
they  lavished  all  their  thought,  devotion  and  anxiety  on 
me.  I  was  not  spoiled ;  but  I  was  watched  and  tended 
as  if  I  were  the  most  precious  thing  the  world  con- 
tained. When  I  grew  up,  and  went  into  society,  I  ques- 
tion if  I  ever  was  a  half-hour  out  of  the  sight  of  one  or  the 
other  of  my  parents.  I  had  plenty  of  society,  of  course, 
but  it  was  restricted  entirely  to  our  set.  None  other  was 
good  enough  for  me  !  My  father  never  had  any  busi- 
ness, so  brought  no  new  element  into  our  household.  It 
was  old  families,  year  in  and  year  out !  From  the  mo- 
ment I  entered  society  I  was  sought  for.  I  had  many 
suitors.  I  had  been  brought  up  to  fear  fortune-hunting, 
and  suspected  the  motives  of  many  men.  Others  did  not 
seem  my  equals — for  I  had  been  taught  pride  in  my 
birth.  Those  who  were  fit  as  regarded  family  were,  many 
of  them,  unfit  in  brains  or  morals — qualities  not  conspic- 
uous in  old  families.  Perhaps  I  might  have  found  one  to 
love — if  it  had  not  been  for  the  others.  I  was  surrounded 
wherever  I  went  and  if  by  chance  I  found  a  pleasant  man 
to  talk  to,  icte-a-tete,  we  were  interrupted  by  other  men 
coming  up.  Only  a  few  even  of  the  men  whom  I  met 
could  gain  an  entrte  to  our  house. — They  weren't  thought 
good  enough.  If  a  working,  serious  man  had  ever  been 
able  to  see  enough  of  me  to  love  me,  he  probably  would 
have  had  very  little  opportunity  to  press  his  suit.  But 
the  few  men  I  might  have  cared  for  were  frightened  off 
by  my  money,  or  discouraged  by  my  popularity  and  ex- 
clusiveness.  They  did  not  even  try.  Of  course  I  did  not 
understand  it  then.  I  gloried  in  my  success  and  did  not 
see  the  wrong  it  was  doing  me.  I  was  absolutely  happy 
at  home,  and  really  had  not  the  slightest  inducement  to 


i;4  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

marry — especially  among  the  men  I  saw  the  most  I  led 
this  life  for  six  years.  Then  my  mother's  death  put  me 
in  mourning.  When  I  went  back  into  society,  an  almost 
entirely  new  set  of  men  had  appeared.  Those  whom  I 
had  known  were  many  of  them  married — others  were 
gone.  Society  had  lost  its  first  charm  to  me.  So  my 
father  and  I  travelled  three  years.  We  had  barely  re- 
turned when  he  died.  I  did  not  take  up  my  social  duties 
again  till  I  was  thirty-two.  Then  it  was  as  the  spinster 
aunt,  as  you  have  known  me.  Now  do  you  understand 
how  hard  it  is  for  such  a  girl  as  Dorothy  to  marry  rightly  ? " 

"Yes.  Unless  the  man  is  in  love.  Let  a  man  Care 
enough  for  a  woman,  and  money  or  position  will  not 
frighten  him  off." 

"Such  men  are  rare.  Or  perhaps  it  is  because  I  did 
not  attract  them.  I  did  not  understand  men  as  well  then 
as  I  do  now.  Of  some  whom  I  thought  unlovable  or  dull 
at  that  time,  I  have  learned  to  think  better.  A  woman 
does  not  marry  to  be  entertained — or  should  not/' 

"I  think/'  said  Peter,  "that  one  marries  for  love  and 
sympathy.'" 

"  Yes.  And  if  they  are  given,  it  does  not  matter  about 
the  rest.  Even  now,  thirty-seven  though  I  am,  if  I  could 
find  a  true  man  who  could  love  me  as  I  wish  to  be  loved, 
I  could  love  him  with  my  whole  heart.  It  would  be  my 
happiness  not  merely  to  give  him  social  position  and 
wealth,  but  to  make  his  every  hope  and  wish  mine  also." 

All  this  had  been  said  in  the  same  natural  manner 
in  which  they  both  usually  spoke.  Miss  De  Voe  had 
talked  without  apparent  emotion.  But  when  she  began 
the  last  remark,  she  had  stopped  looking  at  Peter,  and 
had  gazed  off  through  the  window  at  the  green  lawn, 
merely  showing  him  her  profile.  As  a  consequence  she 
did  not  see  how  pale  he  suddenly  became,  nor  the  look 
of  great  suffering  that  came  into  his  face.  She  did  not 
see  this  look  pass  and  his  face,  and  especially  his  mouth, 
settle  into  a  rigid  determination,  even  while  the  eyes 
remained  sad. 

Miss  De  Voe  ended  the  pause  by  beginning,  "Don't 
you  " — but  Peter  interrupted  her  there,  by  saying  : 

"  It  is  a  very  sad  story  to  me — because  I — I  once  craved 
love  and  sympathy." 

Miss  De  Voe  turned  and  looked  at  him  quickly.     She 


CONFLICTS.  175 

Saw  the  look  of  suffering  on   his  face,  but  read  it  amiss. 
"  You  mean  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"There  was  a  girl  I  loved,"  said  Peter  softly,  "who 
did  not  love  me." 

'And  you  love  her  still  ?  " 

'  I  have  no  right  to." 

'  She  is  married  ? " 

<Yes." 

<  Will  you  tell  me  about  it  ?  " 

'I — I  would  rather  not." 

Miss  De  Voe  sat  quietly  for  a  moment,  and  then  rose. 
"Dear  friend,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  Peter's 
shoulder,  "we  have  both  missed  the  great  prize  in  life. 
Your  lot  is  harder  than  the  one  I  have  told  you  about 
It  is  very," — Miss  De  Voe  paused  a  moment, — "it  is  very- 
sad  to  love — without  being  loved." 
And  so  ended  Lispenard's  comedy. 


CHAPTER  XXXL 
CONFLICTS. 

LISPENARD  went  back  with  Peter  to  the  city.  He  gave 
his  reason  on  the  train  : 

"You  see  I  go  back  to  the  city  occasionally  in  the  sum- 
mer, so  as  to  make  the  country  bearable,  and  then  I  go 
back  to  the  country,  so  as  to  make  the  city  endurable.  I 
shall  be  in  Newport  again  in  a  week.  When  will  you 
come  back  ?  " 

"  My  summering's  over." 

"  Indeed.    I  thought  my  cousin  would  want  you  again  ! n 

"  She  did  not  say  so." 

"The  deuce  she  didn't.  It  must  be  the  only  thing  she 
didn't  say,  then,  in  your  long  confabs  ?  " 

Peter  made  rro  reply,  though  Lispenard  looked  as  well 
as  asked  a  question. 

' '  Perhaps, "  continued  Lispenard,  ' '  she  talked  too  much, 
and  so  did  not  remember  to  ask  you?  " 

Still  Peter  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  sure  she  didn't  give  you  a  chance  to  have 
more  of  her  society  ?  "  Lispenard  was  smiling. 


Ij6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Ogden,"  said  Peter  gently,  "you  are  behaving  con- 
temptibly and  you  know  it."  e 

The  color  blazed  up  into  Lispenard's  face  and  he  rose, 
saying : 

"  Did  I  understand  you  aright  ?  "  The  manner  and  atti- 
tude were  both  threatening  though  repressed. 

"  If  you  tell  me  that  I  misunderstood  you,  I  will  apolo- 
gize. If  you  think  the  statement  insulting,  I  will  withdraw 
it.  I  did  not  speak  to  insult  you  ;  but  because  I  wished 
you  to  know  how  your  questions  impressed  me." 

11  When  a  man  tells  another  he  is  contemptible,  he 
cannot  expect  to  escape  results.  This  is  no  place  to  have 
a  scene.  You  may  send  me  your  apology  when  we  reach 
New  York " 

Peter  interrupted.  "I  shall,  if  you  will  tell  me  I 
wronged  you  in  supposing  your  questions  to  be  mali- 
cious." 

Lispenard  paid  no  attention  to  the  interjection. 
"Otherwise,"  he  finished,  "we  will  consider  our  relations 
ended."  He  walked  away. 

Peter  wrote  Lispenard  that  evening  a  long  letter.  He 
did  not  apologize  in  it,  but  it  ended  : 

"  There  should  be  no  quarrel  between  us,  for  we  ought  to  be  friends. 
If  alienation  has  come,  it  is  due  to  what  has  occurred  to-day,  and  that 
shall  not  cause  unkind  feelings,  if  I  can  help  it.  An  apology  is  due 
somewhere.  You  either  asked  questions  you  had  no  right  to  ask,  or 
else  I  misjudged  you.  I  have  written  you  my  point  of  view.  You  have 
your  own.  I  leave  the  matter  to  your  fairness.  Think  it  over,  and  if 
you  still  find  me  in  the  wrong,  and  will  tell  me  so,  I  will  apologize." 

He  did  not  receive  a  reply.  Meeting  Ogden  Ogden  a 
few  days  later,  he  was  told  that  Lispenard  had  gone  west  for 
a  hunting  trip,  quite  unexpectedly.  ' '  He  said  not  to  expect 
him  back  till  he  came.  He  seemed  out  of  sorts  at  some- 
thing." In  September  Peter  had  a  letter  from  Miss  De 
Voe.  Merely  a  few  lines  saying  that  she  had  decided  to 
spend  the  winter  abroad,  and  was  on  the  point  of  sailing. 
"I  am  too  hurried  to  see  my  friends,  but  did  not  like  to 
go  without  some  good-byes,  so  I  write  them."  On  the 
whole,  as  in  the  case  of  most  comedies,  there  was  little 
amusement  for  the  actual  performers.  A  great  essayist 
has  defined  laughter  as  a  "feeling  of  superiority  in  the 
laugher  over  the  object  laughed  at."  If  this  is  cor- 
rect, it  makes  all  humor  despicable.  Certainly  much 


CONFLICTS.  177 

'coarseness,   meanness  and  cruelty  are  every  day   toler- 
ated, because  of  the  comic  covering  with  which  it  is  draped. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  comedy  nor  its  winter 
prologue  had  diverted  Peter  from  other  things.  In  spite 
of  Miss  De  Voe's  demands  on  his  time  he  had  enough 
left  to  spend  many  days  in  Albany  when  the  legislature 
took  up  the  reports  of  the  Commissions.  He  found  strongf\ 
lobbies  against  both  bills,  and  had  a  long  struggle  with  them. 
He  had  the  help  of  the  newspapers,  and  he  had  the  help 
of  Costell,  yet  even  with  this  powerful  backing,  the  bills 
were  first  badly  mangled,  and  finally  were  side-tracked. 
In  the  actual  fight,  Pell  helped  him  most,  and  Peter  began 
to  think  that  a  man  might  buy  an  election  and  yet  not 
be  entirely  bad.  Second  only  to  Pell,  was  his  whilom 
enemy,  the  former  District-Attorney,  now  a  state  senator, 
who  battled  himself  into  Peter's  reluctant  admiration  and 
friendship  by  his  devotion  and  loyalty  to  the  bills.  Peter 
concluded  that  he  had  not  entirely  done  the  man  justice 
in  the  past.  Curiously  enough,  his  chief  antagonist 
was  Maguire. 

Peter  did  not  give  up  the  fight  with  this  defeat.  His 
work  for  the  bills  had  revealed  to  him  the  real  under- 
currents in  the  legislative  body,  and  when  it  adjourned, 
making  further  work  in  Albany  only  a  waste  of  time,  he 
availed  himself  of  the  secret  knowledge  that  had  come  to 
him,  to  single  out  the  real  forces  which  stood  behind  and 
paid  the  lobby,  and  to  interview  them.  He  saw  the 
actual  principals  in  the  opposition,  and  spoke  with  utmost 
frankness.  He  told  them  that  the  fight  would  be  re- 
newed, on  his  part,  at  every  session  of  the  legislature  till 
the  bills  were  passed;  that  he  was  willing  to  consider  pro- 
posed amendments,  and  would  accept  any  that  were 
honest.  He  made  the  fact  very  clear  to  them  that  they 
would  have  to  pay  yearly  to  keep  the  bills  off  the  statute 
book.  Some  laughed  at  him,  others  quarrelled.  But  a 
few,  after  listening  to  him,  stated  their  true  objections  to 
the  bills,  and  Peter  tried  to  meet  them. 

When  the  fall  elections  came,  Peter  endeavored  to 
further  his  cause  in  another  way.  Three  of  the  city's 
assemblymen  and  one  of  her  senators  had  voted  against 
the  bills.  Peter  now  invaded  their  districts,  and  talked 
against  them  in  saloons  and  elsewhere.  It  very  quickly 
stirred  up  hard  feeling,  which  resulted  in  attempts  to  down 


178  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

him.  But  Peter's  blood  warmed  up  as  the  fight  thick- 
ened, and  hisses,  eggs,  or  actual  attempts  to  injure  him 
physically  did  not  deter  him.  The  big  leaders  were  ap- 
pealed to  to  call  him  off,  but  Costell  declined  to  interfere. 

"He  wouldn't  stop  anyway,"  he  told  Green,  "so  we 
should  do  no  good.  Let  them  fight  it  out  by  themselves." 
Both  of  which  sentences  showed  that  Mr.  Costell  under- 
stood his  business. 

Peter  had  challenged  his  opponents  to  a  joint  debate, 
and  when  that  was  declined  by  them,  he  hired  halls  for 
evenings  and  spoke  on  the  subject.  He  argued  well, 
with  much  more  feeling  than  he  had  shown  since  his 
speech  in  "the  case."  After  the  first  attempt  of  this  kind, 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  filling  his  halls.  The  rumor  came 
back  to  his  own  district  that  he  was  "talkin'  foin,"  and 
many  of  his  friends  there  turned  out  to  hear  him.  The 
same  news  went  through  other  wards  of  the  city  and 
drew  men  from  them.  People  were  actually  excluded, 
for  want  of  room,  and  therefore  every  one  became  anxious 
to  hear  his  speeches.  Finally,  by  subscription  of  a  number 
of  people  who  had  become  interested,  headed  by  Mr.  Pell, 
the  Cooper  Union  was  hired,  and  Peter  made  a  really 
great  speech  to  nearly  three  thousand  people. 

The  papers  came  to  his  help  too,  and  stood  by  him 
manfully.  By  their  aid,  it  was  made  very  clear  that  this 
was  a  fight  against  a  selfish  lobby.  By  their  aid,  it  be- 
came one  of  the  real  questions  of  the  local  campaign,  and 
was  carried  beyond  the  borders  of  the  city,  so  as  to  play 
a  part  in  the  county  elections.  Peter  met  many  of  the 
editors,  and  between  his  expert  knowledge,  acquired  on 
the  Commissions,  and  his  practical  knowledge,  learned  at 
Albany,  proved  a  valuable  man  to  them.  They  repaid 
his  help  by  kind  words  and  praise  in  their  columns,  and 
brought  him  forward  as  the  chief  man  in  the  movement. 
Mrs.  Stirling  concluded  that  the  conspiracy  to  keep  Peter 
in  the  background  had  been  abandoned. 

"Those  York  papers  couldn't  help  my  Peter's  getting 
on,"  was  the  way  she  put  it. 

The  results  of  this  fight  were  even  better  than  he  had 
hoped.  One  Assemblyman  gave  in  and  agreed  no  longer 
to  oppose  the  bills.  Another  was  defeated.  The  Senator 
had  his  majority  so  cut  down  that  he  retired  from  the 
opposition.  The  questions  too  had  become  so  much  more 


THE  END  OF  THE  CONFLICT.  179 

discussed  and  watched,  and  the  blame  so  fastened  upon  the 
lobby  that  many  members  from  the  country  no  longer 
dared  to  oppose  legislation  on  the  subject.  Hence  it  was 
that  the  bills,  newly  drawn  by  Peter,  to  reduce  opposition 
as  far  as  possible,  when  introduced  by  Schlurger  soon  after 
the  opening  of  the  legislature,  went  through  with  a  rush, 
not  even  ayes  and  nays  being  taken.  Aided  by  Mr. 
Costell,  Peter  secured  their  prompt  signing  by  Catlin, 
his  long  fight  had  ended  in  victory. 

The  "sixt"  was  wild  with  joy  over  the  triumph. 
Whether  it  was  because  it  was  a  tenement  ward,  or  be- 
cause Peter  had  talked  there  so  much  about  it,  or  because 
his  success  was  felt  to  redound,  to  their  credit,  the 
voters  got  up.  a  display  .of  fireworks  on  the  .night  when 
the  news  of  the  signing  of  the  bills  reached  New  York. 
When  Peter  returned  to  the  city,  he  was  called  down  to  a 
hall  one  evening,  to  witness  a  torchlight  procession  and 
receive  resolutions  "  ejngrossed  and  framed"  from  his 
admiring  friends.  Blunkers  was  chairman  and  made  a 
plain  speech  which  set  the  boys  cheering  by  its  combina- 
tion of  strong  feeling  and  lack  of  grammar.  Then  Justice 
Gallagher  made  a  fine-sounding,  big-worded  presentation. 
In  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  Dennis  broke  the  pro- 
gramme by  rising  and  giving  vent  to  a  wild  burst  of  feel- 
ing, telling  his  audience  all  that  they  owed  to  Peter,  and 
though  they  knew  already  what  he  told  them,  they 
cheered  and  cheered  the  strong,  natural  eloquence. 

"  Yer  was  out  a  order,"  said  Blunkers,  at  the  end  of  the 
speech. 

"  Yez  loi !  "  said  Dennis,  jumping  on  his  feet  again. 
"It's  never  out  av  order  to  praise  Misther  Stirling." 

The  crowd  applauded  his  sentiment 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 
THE  END  OF  THE  CONFLICT. 

PETER  had  had  some  rough  experiences  two  or  three 
times  in  his  fall  campaign,  and  Dennis,  who  had  insisted 
on  escorting  him,  took  him  to  task  about  his  "physical 
culture. " 


180  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"It's  thirty  pounds  yez  are  too  heavy,  sir,"  he  told 
Peter.  "  An'  it's  too  little  intirely  yez  afther  knowin'  av 
hittin'." 

Peter  asked  his  advice,  bought  Indian  clubs,  dumb-bells, 
and  boxing-gloves,  and  under  Dennis's  tutelage  began  to 
learn  the  art  of  self-defence.  He  was  rather  surprised,  at 
the  end  of  two  months,  to  find  how  much  flesh  he  had 
taken  off,  how  much  more  easily  he  moved,  how  much 
more  he  was  eating,  and  how  much  more  he  was  able  to 
do,  both  mentally  and  physically. 

* '  It  seems  as  if  somebody  had  oiled  my  body  and  brain, " 
he  told  Dennis. 

Dennis  let  him  into  another  thing,  by  persuading  him 
to  join  the  militia  regiment  most  patronized  by  the  ' '  sixth, " 
and  in  which  Dennis  was  already  a  sergeant.  Peter 
received  a  warm  welcome  from  the  regiment,  for  Dennis, 
who  was  extremely  popular,  had  heralded  his  fame,  and 
Peter's  physical  strength  and  friendly  way  did  the  rest. 
Ogden  Ogden  laughed  at  him  for  joining  a  "Mick" 
regiment,  and  wanted  to  put  Peter  into  the  Seventh. 
Peter  only  said  that  he  thought  his  place  was  where  he 
was. 

Society  did  not  see  much  of  Peter  this  winter."  He 
called  on  his  friends  dutifully,  but  his  long  visits  to  Albany, 
his  evenings  with  Dennis,  and  his  drill  nights,  interfered 
badly  with  his  acceptance  of  the  invitations  sent  him. 
He  had,  too,  made  many  friends  in  his  commission  work 
and  politics,  so  that  he  had  relatively  less  time  to  give 
to  his  older  ones.  The  absence  of  Miss  De  Voe  and 
Lispenard  somewhat  reduced  his  social  obligations  it  is 
true,  but  the  demands  on  his  time  were  multiplying  fast. 

One  of  these  demands  was  actual  law  work.  The  first 
real  case  to  come  to  him  was  from  the  contractor  who 
had  served  on  the  tenement-commission.  He  was  also 
employed  by  the  Health  Board  as  special  counsel  in  a 
number  of  prosecutions,  to  enforce  clauses  of  his  Food 
Bill.  The  papers  said  it  was  because  of  his  familiarity 
with  the  subject,  but  Peter  knew  it  was  the  influence  of 
Green,  who  had  become  a  member  of  that  Board.  Then 
he  began  to  get  cases  from  the  "  district,"  and  though 
there  was  not  much  money  in  each  case,  before  long 
the  number  of  them  made  a  very  respectable  total. 

The  growth   of  his  practice  was   well  proven   by   a 


THE  END  OF  THE  CONFLICT.  l8l 

suggestion  from  Dummer  that  they  should  join  forces. 
"Mr.  Bohlmann  wants  to  give  you  some  of  his  work,  and 
it's  easier  to  go  into  partnership  than  to  divide  his  practice." 

Peter  knew  that  Dummer  had  a  very  lucrative  business 
of  a  certain  kind,  but  he  declined  the  offer. 

"  I  have  decided  never  to  take  a  case  which  has  not 
right  on  its  side." 

"  A  lawyer  is  just  as  much  bound  to  try  a  case  as  a 
physician  is  bound  to  take  a  patient." 

"That  is  what  lawyers  say  outside,  but  they  know 
better." 

"Well,  have  your  scruples.  We'll  make  the  firm  cases 
only  such  as  you  choose.  I'll  manage  the  others." 

"I  should  like  to,"  said  Peter.  "I'm  very  grateful  for 
the  offer — but  we  could  hardly  do  that  successfully.  If 
the  firm  was  good  for  anything,  we  should  be  known  as 
belonging  to  it,  and  the  public  could  not  well  discrim- 
inate." 

So  that  chance  of  success  was  passed.  But  every  now 
and  then  Bohlmann  sent  him  something  to  do,  and  Dum- 
mer helped  him  to  a  joint  case  occasionally. 

So,  though  friends  grew  steadily  in  numbers,  society 
saw  less  and  less  of  Peter.  Those  who  cared  to  study 
his  tastes  came  to  recognize  that  to  force  formal  entertain- 
ing on  him  was  no  kindness,  and  left  it  to  Peter  to  drop 
in  when  he  chose,  making  him  welcome  when  he  came. 

He  was  pleased  to  get  a  letter  from  Lispenard  during 
the  winter,  from  Japan.  It  was  long,  but  only  the  first 
paragraph  need  be  quoted,  for  the  rest  related  merely  to 
his  travels  : 

"  The  breezes  of  the  Pacific  have  blown  away  all  my  bad  temper,"  he 
wrote,  "  and  I  want  to  say  that  I  was  wrong,  and  regret  my  original 
fault,  as  well  as  what  it  later  led  me  into.  You  are  quite  right.  We 
must  continue  friends." 

Peter  wrote  a  reply,  which  led  to  a  regular  correspond- 
ence. He  sent  Miss  De  Voe,  also,  a  line  of  Christmas 
greetings,  and  received  a  long  letter  from  her  at  Nice, 
which  told  him  something  of  Watts  and  Helen  : 

"  She  is  now  well  again,  but  having  been  six  years  in  Europe,  she  and 
her  husband  have  become  wedded  to  the  life.  I  question  if  they  ever 
return.  I  spoke  of  you,  and  they  both  inquired  with  great  warmth 
about  you." 


£82  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Peter  replied,  sending  his  "remembrance  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  D'Alloi  in  case  you  again  meet  them."  From  that 
time  on  Miss  De  Voe  and  he  corresponded,  she  telling  him 
of  her  Italian,  Greek  and  Egyptian  wanderings,  and  he 
writing  of  his  doings,  especially  in  regard  to  a  certain, 
savings  bank  fund  standing  in  the  name  of  "  Peter  Stirling, 
trustee  "  to  which  Miss  De  Voe  had,  the  winter  before, 
arranged  to  contribute  a  thousand  dollars  yearly. 

As  his  practice  increased  he  began  to  indulge  himself  a 
little.  Through  the  instrumentality  of  Mr.  Pell,  he  was 
put  first  into  one  and  later  into  a  second  of  the  New  York 
clubs,  and  his  dinners  became  far  less  simple  in  conse- 
quence. He  used  these  comforters  of  men,  indeed,  almost 
wholly  for  dining,  and,  though  by  no  means  a  club-man 
in  other  senses,  it  was  still  a  tendency  to  the  luxurious. 
To  counteract  this  danger  he  asked  Mr.  Costell  to  pick 
him  up  a  saddle-horse,  whereupon  that  friend  promptly 
presented  him  with  one.  He  went  regularly  now  to  a 
good  tailor,  which  conduct  ought  to  have  ruined  him  with 
the  "b'ys,"  but  it  didn't.  He  still  smoked  a  pipe  occa- 
sionally in  the  saloons  or  on  the  doorsteps  of  the  district, 
yet  candor  compels  us  to  add  that  he  now  had  in  his 
room  a  box  of  cigars  labelled  "Habana."  These  were 
creature  pleasures,  however,  which  he  only  allowed  him- 
self on  rare  occasions.  AVid  most  of  these  luxuries  did 
not  appear  till  his  practice  had  broadened  beyond  the 
point  already  noted. 

Broaden  it  did.  In  time  many  city  cases  were  thrown 
in  his  way.  As  he  became  more  and  more  a  factor  in 
politics,  the  judges  began  to  send  him  very  profitable 
referee  cases.  Presently  a  great  local  corporation,  with 
many  damage  suits,  asked  him  to  accept  its  work  on  a 
yearly  salary. 

"  Of  course  we  shall  want  you  to  look  out  for  us  at 
Albany,"  it  was  added. 

"  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  prevent  unfair  legislation.  That 
must  be  all,  though.  As  for  the  practice,  you  must  let  me 
settle  every  case  where  I  think  the  right  is  with  the 
plaintiff. "  This  caused  demur  at  first,  but  eventually  he 
was  employed,  and  it  was  found  that  money  was  saved 
in  the  long  run,  for  Peter  was  very  successful  in  getting 
people  to  settle  out  of  court. 

Then  the  savings  bank,  for  which  Peter  had  done  his 


THE  END  OF  THE  CONFLICT.  183 

best  (not  merely  as  recorded,  but  at  other  times),  turned 
over  its  law  business  to  him,  giving  him  many  real 
estate  transactions  to  look  into,  besides  papers  to  draw. 
uHe  brings  us  a  good  many  depositors,"  Mr.  Lapham 
told  his  trustees,  "  and  is  getting  to  be  a  large  depositor 
himself. " 

Peter  began  to  find  help  necessary,  and  took  a  part- 
ner. He  did  this  at  the  suggestion  of  Ogden  Ogden,  who 
had  concluded  his  clerkship,  and  who  said  to  Peter  : 

11 1  have  a  lot  of  friends  who  promise  me  their  work. 
I  don't  know  how  much  it  will  be,  but  I  should  like  to 
try  it  with  you.  Of  course,  yours  is  the  bigger  practice, 
but  we  can  arrange  that." 

So  after  considerable  discussion,  the  sign  on  Peter's 
door  became  "  Stirling  and  Ogden,"  and  the  firm  blossomed 
out  with  an  office  boy — one  of  Peter's  original  "angle" 
friends,  now  six  years  older  than  when  Peter  and  he  had 
first  met. 

Ogden's  friends  did  materialize,  and  brought  good  paying 
cases.  As  the  city,  referee,  corporation  and  bank  work 
increased,  their  joint  practice  needed  more  help,  and  Ray 
Rivington  was,  on  Ogden's  request,  taken  in. 

"He  doesn't  get  on  with  his  law  studies,  though  he 
pretends  to  work  over  them  hard.  In  fact  he'll  never  be 
a  good  lawyer.  He  hasn't  a  legal  mind.  But  he'll  bring 
cases,  for  he's  very  popular  in  society,  and  he'll  do 
all  the  palavering  and  running  round  very  well.  He's 
just  the  fellow  to  please  people."  This  was  what  Ogden 
urged,  adding,  "I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  I'm  inter- 
ested for  another  reason,  too.  He  and  Dorothy  will 
marry,  if  he  can  ever  get  to  the  marrying  point.  This,  of 
course,  is  to  be  between  us." 

"  I'll  be  very  glad  to  have  him,  both  for  his  own  sake, 
and  for  what  you've  just  told  me,"  said  Peter. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  firm  again  changed  its  name,  be- 
coming "Stirling,  Ogden  and  Rivington,"  and  actually 
spread  into  two  other  rooms,  Peter's  original  little  "  ten 
by  twelve  "  being  left  to  the  possession  of  the  office  boy. 
That  functionary  gazed  long  hours  at  the  map  of  Italy  on 
the  blank  wall,  but  it  did  not  trouble  him.  He  only 
whistled  and  sang  street  songs  at  it.  As  for  Peter,  he  was 
too  busy  to  need  blank  walls.  He  had  fought  two  great 
opponents.  The  world  and  himself.  He  had  conquered 
them  both. 


184  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

A  RENEWAL. 

IF  the  American  people  had  anglicized  themselves  as 
thoroughly  into  liking  three-volume  stories,  as  they  have 
in  other  things,  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  trace  the  next 
ten  years  of  Peter's  life  ;  for  his  growing  reputation  makes 
_Jhis  period  a  far  easier  matter  to  chronicle  than  the  more 
1  obscure  beginnings  already  recorded.  If  his  own  life  did 
not  supply  enough  material  we  could  multiply  our  char- 
acters, as  did  Dickens,  or  journey  sideways,  into  little 
essays,  as  did  Thackeray.  His  life  and  his  biographer's 
pen  might  fail  to  give  interest  to  such  devices,  but  the 
plea  is  now  for  "  realism,"  which  most  writers  take  to  mean 
microscopical  examination  of  minutia.  If  the  physical 
and  psychical  emotions  of  a  heroine  as  she  drinks  a  glass 
of  water  can  properly  be  elaborated  so  as  to  fill  two 

Urinted  pages,  Peter's  life  could  be  extended  endlessly. 
..'here  were  big  cases,  political  fights,  globe  trottings,  and 
new  friends,  all  of  which  have  unlimited  potentialities  for 
numerous  chapters.  But  Americans  are  peculiar  people, 
and  do  not  buy  a  pound  of  sugar  any  the  quicker  because 
its  bulk  has  been  raised  by  a  skilful  admixture  of  moist- 
ure and  sand.  So  it  seems  best  partly  to  take  the  advice 
of  the  Bellman,  in  the  "Hunting  of  the  Snark,"to  skip 
sundry  years.  In  resuming,  it  is  to  find  Peter  at  his 
desk,  reading  a  letter.  He  has  a  very  curious  look  on  his 
face,  due  to  the  letter,  the  contents  of  which  are  as  fol- 
lows : 

MARCH  22. 
DEAR  OLD  CHUM— 

Here  is  the  wretched  old  sixpence,  just  as  bad  as  ever — if  not  worse- 
come  back  after  all  these  years. 

And  as  of  yore,  the  sixpence  is  in  a  dreadful  pickle,  and  appeals  to  the 
old  chum,  who  always  used  to  pull  him  out  of  his  scrapes,  to  do  it  once 
more.  Please  come  and  see  me  as  quickly  as  possible,  for  every  moment 


A  RENEWAL.  185 

is  important.    You  see  I  feel  sure  that  I  do  not  appeal  in  vain.    "  Change- 
less as  the  pyramids  "  ought  to  be  your  motto. 

Helen  and  our  dear  little  girl  will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  as  will 

Yours  affectionately, 

WATTS. 

Peter  opened  a  drawer  and  put  the  letter  into  it.  Then 
he  examined  his  diary  calendar.  After  this  he  went  to  a 
door,  and,  opening  it,  said  : 

"  I  am  going  uptown  for  the  afternoon.  If  Mr.  Murtha 
comes,  Mr.  Ogden  will  see  him." 

Peter  went  down  and  took  a  cab,  giving  the  driver  a 
number  in  Grammercy  Park. 

The  footman  hesitated  on  Peter's  inquiry.  "Mr.  D'Alloi 
is  in,  sir,  but  is  having  his  afternoon  nap,  and  we  have 
orders  he's  not  to  be  disturbed." 

"Take  him  my  card.     He  will  see  me." 

The  footman  showed  Peter  into  the  drawing-room,  and 
disappeared.  Peter  heard  low  voices  for  a  moment,  then 
the  curtains  of  the  back  room  were  quickly  parted,  and, 
with  hands  extended  to  meet  him,  Helen  appeared. 

"This  is  nice  of  you — and  so  unexpected  !  " 

Peter  took  the  hand,  but  said  nothing.  They  sat  down, 
and  Mrs.  D'Alloi  continued  : 

"  Watts  is  asleep,  and  I  have  given  word  that  he  is  not 
to  be  disturbed.  I  want  to  see  you  for  a  moment  mysel£ 
You  have  plenty  of  time  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  That's  very  nice.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  formal  with 
us.  Do  say  that  you  can  stay  to  dinner  ?  " 

"I  would,  if  I  were  not  already  engaged." 

"Then  we'll  merely  postpone  it.  It's  very  good  of  you 
to  come  to  see  us.  I've  tried  to  get  Watts  to  look  you  up, 
but  he  is  so  lazy  !  It's  just  as  well  since  you've  found 
us  out.  Only  you  should  have  asked  for  both  of  us." 

"  I  came  on  business,"  said  Peter. 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  laughed.  "Watts  is  the  poorest  man  in  the 
world  for  that,  but  he'll  do  anything  he  can  to  help  you, 
I  know.  He  has  the  warmest  feeling  for  you." 

Peter  gathered  from  this  that  Mrs.  D'Alloi  did  not  know 
of  the  "scrape,"  whatever  it  was,  and  with  a  lawyer's 
caution,  he  did  not  attempt  to  disabuse  her  of  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  called  about  his  own  affairs. 

"  How   you   have  changed  !  "  Mrs.  D'Alloi  continued* 


286  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

(f  If  I  had  not  known  who  it  was  from  the  ,  ard,  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  should  have  recognized  you." 

It  was  just  what  Peter  had  been  saying  to  himself  of 
Mrs.  D'Alloi.  Was  it  her  long  ill-health,  or  was  it  the 
mere  lapse  of  years,  which  had  wrought  such  changes  in 
her?  Except  for  the  eyes,  everything  had  altered.  The 
cheeks  had  lost  their  roundness  and  color ;  the  hair  had 
thinned  noticeably  ;  lines  of  years  and  pain  had  taken  away 
the  sweet  expression  that  formerly  had  counted  for  so 
much  ;  the  pretty  roundness  of  the  figure  was  gone,  and 
what  charm  it  now  had  was  due  to  the  modiste's  skill. 
Peter  felt  puzzled.  Was  this  the  woman  for  whom  he  had 
so  suffered?  Was  it  this  memory  that  had  kept  him,  at 
thirty-eight,  still  a  bachelor  ?  Like  many  another  man,  he 
found  that  he  had  been  loving  an  ideal — a  creation  of  his 
own  mind.  He  had,  on  a  boyish  fancy,  built  a  dream  of 
a  woman  with  every  beauty  and  attraction,  and  had  been 
loving  it  for  many  years,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
womankind.  Now  he  saw  the  original  of  his  dream,  with 
the  freshness  and  glamour  gone,  not  merely  from  the 
dream,  but  from  his  own  eyes.  Peter  had  met  many  pretty 
girls,  and  many  sweet  ones  since  that  week  at  the  Pierces. 
He  had  gained  a  very  different  point  of  view  of  women 
from  that  callow  time. 

Peter  was  not  blunderer  enough  to  tell  Mrs.  D'Alloi  that 
he  too,  saw  a  change.  His  years  had  brought  tact,  if 
they  had  not  made  him  less  straightforward.  So  he  merely 
said,  "You  think  so?" 

"  Ever  so  much.  You've  really  grown  slender,  in  spite 
of  your  broad  shoulders — and  your  face  is  so — so  different/' 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  For  his  height  and 
breadth  of  shoulder,  Peter  was  now  by  no  means  heavy. 
His  face,  too,  had  undergone  a  great  change.  As  the  round- 
ness had  left  it,  the  eyes  and  the  forehead  had  both  be- 
come more  prominent  features,  and  both  were  good.  The 
square,  firm  jaw  still  remained,  but  the  heaviness  of  the 
cheek  and  nose  had  melted  into  lines  which  gave  only 
strength  and  character,  and  destroyed  the  dulness  which 
people  used  to  comment  upon.  The  face  would  never  be 
called  handsome,  in  the  sense  that  regular  features  are 
supposed  to  give  beauty,  but  it  was  strong  and  speaking, 
with  lines  of  thought  and  feeling. 

"  You  know," laughed  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  "you  have  actually 


A  RENEWAL.  rfj 

become  good-looking,   and   I   never  dreamed   that   was 
possible  !  " 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here  ? " 

"A  month.  We  are  staying  with  papa,  till  the  house  in 
Fifty-seventh  Street  can  be  put  in  order.  It  has  been 
closed  since  Mrs.  D'Alloi's  death.  But  don't  let's  talk 
houses.  Tell  me  about  yourself." 

' '  There  is  little  to  tell.  I  have  worked  at  my  profession, 
with  success." 

"  But  I  see  your  name  in  politics.  And  I've  met  many 
people  in  Europe  who  have  said  you  were  getting  very 
famous." 

"I spend  a  good  deal  of  time  in  politics.  I  cannot  say 
whether  I  have  made  myself  famous,  or  infamous.  It 
seems  to  depend  on  which  paper  I  read." 

"Yes,  I  saw  a  paper  on  the  steamer,  that "Mrs. 

D'Alloi  hesitated,  remembering  that  it  had  charged  Peter 
with  about  every  known  sin  of  which  man  is  capable. 
Then  she  continued,  "But  I  knew  it  was  wrong."  Yet 
there  was  quite  as  much  of  question  as  of  assertion  in  her 
remark.  In  truth,  Mrs.  D'Alloi  was  by  no  means  sure  that 
Peter  was  all  that  was  desirable,  for  any  charge  made 
against  a  politician  in  this  country  has  a  peculiar  vitalit 
and  persistence.  She  had  been  told  that  Peter  was  an) 
open  supporter  of  saloons,  and  that  New  York  politics  bat 
tened  on  all  forms  of  vice.  So  a  favorite  son  could  hardly 
have  retained  the  purity  that  women  take  as  a  standard 
of  measurement.  "Don't  you  find  ward  politics  very 
hard?"  she  asked,  dropping  an  experimental  plummet,  to 
see  what  depths  of  iniquity  there  might  be. 

"I  haven't  yet." 

4 'But  that  kind  of  politics  must  be  very  disagreeable  to 
gentlemen.  The  men  must  have  such  dirty  hands  !  " 

"  It's  not  the  dirty  hands  which  make  American  politics 
disagreeable.  It's  the  dirty  consciences." 

"Are — are  politics  so  corrupt  and  immoral  ?  " 

"Politics  are  what  the  people  make  them." 

"Really?" 

"I  suppose  your  life  has  not  been  of  a  kind  to  make 
you  very  familiar  with  it  all.  Tell  me  what  these  long 
years  have  brought  you  ? " 

"  Perfect  happiness  !  Oh,  Mr.  Stirling — may  I  call  you 
Peter  ? — thank  you.  Peter,  I  have  the  finest,  noblest  hus- 


188  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

band  that  ever  lived  !  He  is  everything  that  is  good  and 
kind  !  "  Mrs.  D'Alloi's  face  lighted  up  with  happiness  and 
tenderness. 

"  And  your  children  ?  " 

"We  have  only  one.  The  sweetest,  loveliest  child  you 
can  imagine." 

"Fie,  fie,  Rosebud/'  cried  a  voice  from  the  doorway. 
"You  shouldn't  speak  of  yourself  so,  even  if  it  is  the 
truth.  Leave  that  to  me.  How  are  you,  Peter,  old 
fellow  ?  I'd  apologize  for  keeping  you  waiting,  but  if 
you've  had  Helen,  there's  no  occasion.  Isn't  it  Boileau 
who  said  that :  '  The  best  thing  about  many  a  man  is 
his  wife'?" 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  beamed,  but  said,  "It  isn't  so,  Peter. 
He's  much  better  than  I." 

Watts  laughed.  "You'll  have  to  excuse  this,  old  man. 
Will  happen  sometimes,  even  in  the  properest  of  families, 
if  one  marries  an  angel." 

"There,  you  see,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "  He  just  spoils 
me,  Peter." 

"And  she  thrives  on  it,  doesn't  she,  Peter?  "  said  Watts. 
"Isn't  she  prettier  even  than  she  was  in  the  old  days? " 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  colored  with  pleasure,  even  while  saying  : 
"  Now,  Watts  dear,  I  won't  swallow  such  palpable  flattery. 
There's  one  kiss  for  it — Peter  won't  mind — and  now  I  know 
you  two  want  to  talk  old  times,  so  I'll  leave  you  together. 
Good-bye,  Peter — or  rather  au  revoir — for  you  must  be  a 
regular  visitor  now.  Watts,  arrange  with  Peter  to  dine 
with  us  some  day  this  week." 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  disappeared  through  the  doorway.  Peter's 
pulse  did  not  change  a  beat. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
HELP. 

THE  moment  she  was  gone,  Watts  held  out  his  hand, 
saying :  "  Here,  old  man,  let  us  shake  hands  again. 
It's  almost  like  going  back  to  college  days  to  see  my  old 
chum.  Come  to  the  snuggery,  where  we  shan't  be 
interrupted."  They  went  through  two  rooms,  to  one 


HELP.  189 

fitted  upas  a  smoking-room  and  office.  "It's  papa-in- 
law's  workshop.  He  can't  drop  his  work  at  the  bank,  so 
he  brings  it  home  and  goes  on  here.  Sit  down.  Here, 
take  a  cigar.  Now,  are  you  comfortable  ?  " 

-Yes." 

' '  Mainienant,  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  why  I 
wrote  you  to  come  so  quickly  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  the  truth  of  it  is,  I'm  in  an  awful  mess.  Yester- 
day I  was  so  desperate  I  thought  I  should  blow  my  brains 
out.  I  went  round  to  the  club  to  see  if  I  couldn't  forget 
or  drown  my  trouble,  just  as  sick  as  a  man  could  be. 
Felloes  talking.  First  thing  I  heard  was  your  name. 
'  Just  won  a  great  case/  One  of  the  best  lawyers  in  New 
York.'  Thinks  I  to  myself,  '  That's  a  special  providence/ 
Peter  always  was  the  fellow  to  pull  me  through  my  col- 
lege scrapes.  I'll  write  him/  Did  it,  and  played  billiards 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  secure  in  the  belief  that  you 
would  come  to  my  help,  just  as  you  used  to." 

"Tell  me  what  it  is?" 

"Even  that  isn't  easy,  chum.  It's  a  devilish  hard  thing 
to  tell  even  to  you." 

"Is  it  money  trou ?  " 

"No,  no!"  Watts  interrupted.  "It  isn't  that.  The 
truth  is  I've  a  great  deal  more  money  than  is  good  for 
me,  and  apparently  always  shall  have.  I  wish  it  were 
only  that  !  " 

"  How  can  I  help  you  ?  "  began  Peter. 

"I  knew  you  would,"  cried  Watts,  joyfully.  "Just 
the  same  old  reliable  you  always  were.  Here.  Draw  up 
nearer.  That's  it.  Now  then,  here  goes.  I  shan't  mind 
if  you  are  shocked  at  first.  Be  as  hard  on  me  as  you 
like." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I'm  entangled  with 
a  woman,  and  there's  the  devil  to  pay.  Now  you'll  pull 
me  through,  old  man,  won't  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"Don't  say  that,  Peter!  You  must  help  me.  You're^ 
my  only  hope. 

"I  do  not  care  to  mix  myself  in  such  a  business,"  said 
Peter,  very  quietly.  "I  would  rather  know  nothing 
about  it, "  Peter  rose. 


igo  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

"Don't  desert  me,"  cried  Watts,  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  putting  his  hand  on  Peter's  shoulder,  so  as  to  prevent 
his  progress  to  the  door.  "  Don't.  She's  going  to  expose 
me.  Think  of  the  disgrace  !  My  God,  Peter,  think—" 

"Take  your  hand  off  my  shoulder." 

"But  Peter,  think "  ' 

"The  time  to  think  was  before — not  now,  Watts.  I 
will  not  concern  myself  in  this. " 

"  But,  old  man.     I  can't  face  it.     It  will  kill  Helen  !  " 

Peter  had  already  thrown  aside  the  arm,  and  had  taken 
a  step  towards  the  doorway.  He  stopped  and  turned. 
"  She  does  not  know  ?  " 

"Not  a  suspicion.  And  nothing  but  absolute  proof 
will  make  her  believe  it.  She  worships  me.  Oh,  Peter, 
save  her  !  Save  Leonore — if  you  won't  save  me  I  " 

"Can  they  be  saved?" 

"That's  what  I  want  to  know.  Here — sit  down,  please  I 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Peter  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  sat  down. 

"  It  began  in  Paris  twelve  years  ago.  Such  affairs  have 
a  way  of  beginning  in  Paris,  old  man.  It's  in  the  atmos- 
phere. She " 

"Stop.  I  will  ask  questions.  There's  no  good  going 
over  the  whole  story. "  Peter  tried  to  speak  calmly,  and 
to  keep  his  voice  and  face  from  showing  what  he  felt. 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  "  She  threatens  to 
expose  you.  Why  ?  " 

"Well,  after  three  years  I  tired  of  it,  and  tried  to  end  it. 
Then  she  used  it  to  blackmail  me  for  ten  years,  till,  in 
desperation,  I  came  to  America,  to  see  if  I  couldn't  escape 
her." 

"And  she  followed  you  ? " 

"Yes.  She  was  always  tracking  me  in  Europe,  and 
making  my  life  a  hell  on  earth,  and  now  she's  followed 
me  here." 

"If  it's  merely  a  question  of  money,  I  don't  see  what 
you  want  of  me." 

"She  says  she  doesn't  want  money  now — but  revenge. 
She's  perfectly  furious  over  my  coming  off  without  telling 
her — always  had  an  awful  temper — and — well,  you  know 
an  infuriated  woman  is  capable  of  anything.  The  Span- 
iard was  right  who  said  it  was  easier  to  take  care  of  a 
peck  of  fleas  than  one  woman,  eh,  chum  ?  " 


HELP.  191 

"So  she  threatens  to  tell  your  wife?  " 

"No.  She  says  she's  going  to  summon  me  into 
court." 

"  On  what  grounds  ?  " 

"That's  the  worst  part  of  it.  ou  see,  chum,  there's  a 
child,  and  she  says  she's  going  to  apply  for  a  proper 
support  for  it.  Proper  support  !  Heavens  !  The  money 
I've  paid  her  would  support  ten  children.  It's  only 
temper/' 

Peter  said,  "Watts,  Watts,"  in  a  sad  voice. 

"Pretty  bad,  isn't  it?  If  it  wasn't  for  the  child  I 
could " 

Peter  interrupted.  "Has  she  any  proofs  of  paternity 
besides ? " 

Watts  interrupted  in  turn.  "Yes.  Confound  it!  I 
was  fool  enough  to  write  letters  during  my  infatuation. 
Talleyrand  was  right  when  he  said  only  fools  and  women 
wrote  letters." 

"  How  could  you  ?" 

"That's  what  I've  asked  myself  a  hundred  times.  Oh, 
I'm  sorry  enough.  I've  sworn  never  to  put  pen  to  paper 
again.  Jamais  /" 

"  I  did  not  mean  the  letters.     But  your  vow." 

"My  vow?" 

"  Your  marriage  vow." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  know.  But  you  know,  chum,  before  you 
promise  to  love  one  woman  for  all  time  you  should  have 
seen  them  all." 

"And  that  display  ten  minutes  ago  was  all  mockery?" 

"No,  no  !  Really,  Peter,  I'm  awfully  fond  of  the  little 
woman.  Really  I  am.  And  you  know  Daudet  says  a 
man  can  love  two  women  at  the  same  time." 

"And  if  so,  how  about  his  honor  ?  "  Peter  was  trying  to 
repress  his  emotion,  but  it  would  jerk  out  questions. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I've  said  that  to  myself  over  and  over 
again.  Why,  look  here. "  Watts  pulled  a  small  revolver 
from  his  hip  pocket.  "This  will  show  you  how  close  to 
the  desperation  point  I  have  come.  I've  carried  that  for 
two  days,  so  that  if  worse  comes  to  worse — well.  Phut ! 
—  Voila  tout" 

Peter  rose,  speaking  in  a  voice  ringing  with  scorn. 
' '  You  would  escape  your  sin,  to  leave  it  with  added  dis- 
grace for  your  wife  and  daughter  to  bear  1  Put  up  your 


192  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

pistol,  Watts  D'Alloi.  If  I  am  to  help  you,  I  want  to 
help  a  man — not  a  skulker.  What  do  you  want  me  to 
do?" 

"  That's  what  I  wish  to  know.     What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"You  have  offered  her  money ?" 

"  Yes.     I  told  her  that " 

"Never  mind  details,"  interrupted  Peter.  "Was  it 
enough  to  put  further  offers  out  of  the  question  ? " 

' '  Yes.    She  won't  hear  of  money.     She  wants  revenge. " 

"  Give  me  her  name  and  address." 

"  Celestine "  The  rest  was  interrupted  by  a  knock 

at  the  door.  "  Well  ?  "  said  Watts. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  a  footman  entered.  "If 
you  please,  Mr.  D'Alloi,  there's  a  Frenchwoman  at  the 
door  who  wants  to  see  you.  She  won't  give  rne  her  name, 
but  says  you'll  know  who  it  is." 

"  Say  I  won't  see  her.     That  I'm  busy." 

"She  told  me  to  say  that  if  you  were  engaged,  she'd 
see  Mrs.  D'Alloi." 

"  My  God  !  "  said  Watts,  under  his  breath. 

""Ask  the  woman  to  come  in  here,"  said  Peter,  quietly, 
but  in  a  way  which  made  the  man  leave  the  room  without 
waiting  to  see  if  Watts  demurred. 

A  complete  silence  followed.  Then  came  the  rustle 
of  skirts,  and  a  woman  entered  the  room.  Peter,  who 
stood  aside,  motioned  to  the  footman  to  go,  and  closed  the 
door  himself,  turning  the  key. 

The  woman  came  to  the  middle  of  the  room.  "So, 
Monsieur  D'Alloi,"  she  said  in  French,  speaking  very  low 
and  distinctly,  "you  thought  it  best  not  to  order  your 
groom  to  turn  me  out,  as  you  did  that  last  day  in  Paris, 
when  you  supposed  your  flight  to  America  left  you  free  to 
do  as  you  pleased  ?  But  you  did  not  escape  me.  Here 
I  am." 

Watts  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair,  and  striking  a  match, 
lighted  a  cigarette.  "That,  Celestine, "  he  said  in  French, 
"is  what  in  English  we  call  a  self-evident  proposition." 

Celestine's  foot  began  to  tap  the  floor.  "You  needn't 
pretend  you  expected  I  would  follow  you.  You  thought 
you  could  drop  me,  like  an  old  slipper." 

Watts  blew  a  whiff  of  tobacco  from  his  mouth.  "It 
was  a  remark  of  Ricard's,  I  believe,  '  that  in  woman,  one 
should  always  expect  the  unexpected.' " 


HELP.  193 

"Jl/on  Dieuf"  shrieked  Celestine.  "  If  I— if  I  could  kill 
you — you " 

She  was  interrupted  by  Peter's  bringing  a  chair  to  her 
and  saying  in  French,  "  Will  you  not  sit  down,  please  ?  " 

She  turned  in  surprise,  for  she  had  been  too  wrought  up 
to  notice  that  Peter  was  in  the  room.  She  stared  at  him 
and  then  sat  down. 

"That's  right,"  said  Watts.  "Take  it  easy.  No  oc- 
casion to  get  excited." 

"Ah!"  screamed  Celestine,  springing  to  her  feet, 
"your  name  shall  be  in  all  the  papers.  You  shall " 

Peter  again  interrupted.  "Madame,  will  you  allow 
me  to  say  something  ?  "  He  spoke  gently  and  deferen- 
tially. 

Celestine  looked  at  him  again,  saying  rapidly:  "Why 
should  I  listen  to  you  ?  What  are  you  to  me  ?  I  don't 

even  know  you.  My  mind's  made  up.  I  tell  you " 

The  woman  was  lashing  herself  into  a  fury,  and  Peter 
interrupted  her  again  : 

"Pardon  me.  We  are  strangers.  If  I  ask  anything 
of  you  for  myself,  I  should  expect  a  refusal.  But  I  ask  it 
for  humanity,  to  which  we  all  owe  help.  Only  hear  what 
I  have  to  say.  I  do  not  claim  it  as  a  right,  but  as  a 
favor. " 

Celestine  sat  down.  "I  listen,"  she  said.  She  turned 
her  chair  from  Watts  and  faced  Peter,  as  he  stood  at  rthe 
study  table. 

Peter  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  "  After  what  I 
have  seen,  I  feel  sure  you  wish  only  to  revenge  yourself 
on  Mr.  D'Alloi  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Now  let  me  show  you  what  you  will  do.  For  the 
last  two  days  Mr.  D'Alloi  has  carried  a  pistol  in  his  pocket, 
and  if  you  disgrace  him  he  will  probably  shoot  himself." 

"Bon  1" 

"But  where  is  your  revenge  ?  He  will  be  beyond  your 
reach,  and  you  will  only  have  a  human  life  upon  your 
conscience  ever  after." 

"I  shall  not  grieve  I  " 

'  *  Nor  is  that  all.  In  revenging  yourself  on  him,  you 
do  one  of  the  cruelest  acts  possible.  A  wife,  who  trusts 
and  believes  in  him,  will  have  her  faith  and  love  shattered. 
Hi?  daughter — a  young  girl,  with  all  her  life  before  her— 


194  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

must  ever  after  despise  her  father  and  blush  at  her  name. 
Do  not  punish  the  weak  and  innocent  for  the  sin  of  the 
guilty  !  "  Peter  spoke  with  an  earnestness  almost  terrible. 
Tears  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  made  his  appeal,  and  his 
two  auditors  both  rose  to  their  feet,  under  the  impulse  of 
his  voice  even  more  than  of  his  words.  So  earnest  was 
he,  and  so  spell-bound  were  the  others,  that  they  failed 
to  hear  the  door  from  the  dining-room  move,  or  notice 
the  entrance  of  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  as  Peter  ended  his  plea. 

A  moment's  silence  followed  Peter's  outburst  of  feeling. 
Then  the  Frenchwoman  cried  : 

"  Truly,  truly.  But  what  will  you  do  forme  and  my 
child?  Haven't  we  been  ill-treated?  Don't  you  owe  us 
help,  too  ?  Justice  ?  Don't  we  deserve  tenderness  and 
protection  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter.  "But  you  wish  revenge.  Ask  for 
justice,  ask  for  help,  and  I  will  do  what  is  within  my 
power  to  aid  you." 

"Watts,"  cried  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  coming  forward,  "of 
what  child  are  you  talking?  Whose  child?  Who  is  this 
woman  ? " 

Watts  jumped  as  if  he  had  been  shot.  Celestine  even 
retreated  before  the  terrible  voice  and  face  with  which 
Mrs.  D'Alloi  asked  her  questions.  A  sad,  weary  look 
came  into  Peter's  eyes.  No  one  answered  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"Answer  me,"  she  cried. 

"My  dear  little  woman.  Don't  get  excited.  It's  all 
right."  Watts  managed  to  say  this  much.  But  he  did  not 
look  his  last  remark. 

"Answer  me,  I  say.     Who  is  this  woman  ?     Speak  !  " 

"It's  all  right,  really,  it's  all  right.  Here.  Peter  will 
tell  you  it's  all  right." 

"Peter, "cried  Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "Of  whose  child  were 
you  speaking  ?" 

Peter  was  still  standing  by  the  desk.  He  looked  sad 
and  broken,  as  he  said  : 

"This  is  the  mother,  Mrs.  D'Alloi." 

"Yes?     Yes?" 

Peter  raised  his  eyes  to  Helen's,  and  looked  at  her. 
Then  he  said  quietly  : 

"And  Watts— will  tell  you  that— I  am  its  father/' 


RUNNING  A  WA  Y. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
RUNNING  AWAY. 

THE  dramatic  pause  which  followed  Peter's  statement 
was  first  broken  by  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  who  threw  her  arms 
about  Watt's  neck,  and  cried  :  "Oh  I  my  husband.  For- 
give me,  forgive  me  for  the  suspicion  I  " 

Peter  turned  to  Celestine.  "Madame,"  he  said.  "We 
are  not  wanted  here."  He  unlocked  the  door  into  the 
hall,  and  stood  aside  while  she  passed  out,  which  she  did 
quietly.  Another  moment  found  the  two  on  the  sidewalk. 
' '  I  will  walk  with  you  to  your  hotel,  if  you  will  permit 
me  ?  "  Peter  said  to  her. 

"Certainly,"  Celestine  replied.  Nothing  more  was 
said  in  the  walk  of  ten  blocks.  When  they  reached  the 
hotel  entrance,  Peter  asked :  "Can  you  see  me  for  a  few 
moments  ?  " 

"Yes.  Come  to  my  private  parlor."  They  took  the 
elevator,  and  were  but  a  moment  in  reaching  that  apart- 
ment. 

Peter  spoke  the  moment  the  door  was  closed.  "Ma- 
dame," he  said,  "you  saw  that  scene.  Spare  his  wife 
and  child?  He  is  not  worth  your  anger." 

"AhjCiel!"  cried  Celestine,  emotionally.  "Do  you 
think  so  lowly  of  me,  that  you  can  imagine  I  would 
destroy  your  sacrifice?  Your  romantic,  your  dramatic, 
mon  Dieu  I  your  noble  sacrifice  ?  Non,  non.  Celestine 
Lacour  could  never  do  so.  She  will  suffer  cruelty, 
penury,  insults,  before  she  behaves  so  shamefully,  so 
perfidiously." 

Peter  did  not  entirely  sympathize  with  the  French- 
woman's admiration  for  the  dramatic  element,  but  he  waa 
too  good  a  lawyer  not  to  accept  an  admission,  no  matter 
upon  what  grounds.  He  held  out  his  hand  promptly. 
"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  accept  my  thanks  and  admiration 
for  your  generous  conduct." 

Celestine  took  it  and  shook  it  warmly. 


fg6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Peter.  "Mr.  D'Alloi  owes  you  an 
ample  income." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Celestine,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "Do 
not  talk  of  him — I  leave  it  to  you  to  make  him  do  what 
is  right." 

"  And  you  will  return  to  France? " 

"Yes,  yes.  If  you  say  so?"  Celestine  looked  at 
Peter  in  a  manner  known  only  to  the  Latin  races.  Just 
then  a  side  door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  boy  of  about 
twelve  years  of  age  dashed  into  the  room,  followed  by  a 
French  poodle. 

"  Little  villain  !  "  cried  Celestine.  "  How  dare  you  ap- 
proach without  knocking  ?  Go.  Go.  Quickly." 

"  Pardon,  Madame,"  said  the  child.  "  I  thought  you 
still  absent." 

"  Is  that  the  child  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"  Yes,"  said  Celestine. 

"  Does  he  know?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  do  not  tell  him  even  that  I  am  his 
mother.1' 

"  Then  you  are  not  prepared  to  give  him  a  mother's 
care  and  tenderness  ?  " 

"Never.  I  love  him  not.  He  is  too  like  his  father. 
And  I  cannot  have  it  known  that  I  am  the  mother  of  a 
child  of  twelve.  It  would  not  be  believed,  even."  Celes- 
tine took  a  look  at  herself  in  the  tall  mirror. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  would  like  some  arrangement 
about  him  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Peter  stayed  for  nearly  an  hour  with  the  woman.  He 
stayed  so  long,  that  for  one  of  the  few  times  in  his  life  he 
was  late  at  a  dinner  engagement.  But  when  he  had  left 
Celestine,  every  detail  had  been  settled.  Peter  did  not 
have  an  expression  of  pleasure  on  his  face  as  he  rode 
down-town,  nor  was  he  very  good  company  at  the  dinner 
which  he  attended  that  evening. 

The  next  day  did  not  find  him  in  any  better  mood.  He 
went  down-town,  and  called  on  an  insurance  company 
and  talked  for  a  while  with  the  president.  Then  he  called 
at  a  steamship  office.  After  that  he  spent  twenty  minutes 
with  the  head  of  one  of  the  large  schools  for  boys  in  the 
city.  Then  he  returned  to  his  office. 

"  A   Mr.  D'Alloi   is   waiting   for   you  in   your  private 


RUNNING  A  WA  K  197 

office,  sir,"  he  was  told.  "  He  said  that  he  was  an  old 
friend  and  insisted  on  going  in  there." 

Peter  passed  into  his  office. 

Watts  cried  :   "  My  dear  boy,  how  can  I  ever " 

He  was  holding  out  his  hand,  but  Peter  failed  to  take 
it,  and  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  arranged  it  all  with  Madame  Laeour,"  Peter 
said  coldly.  "  She  sails  on  La  Bretagne  on  Thursday. 
You  are  to  buy  an  annuity  for  three  thousand  dollars  a 
year.  In  addition,  you  are  to  buy  an  annuity  for  the  boy 
till  he  is  twenty-five,  of  one  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
payable  to  me  as  his  guardian.  This  will  cost  you  be- 
tween forty  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.  I  will  notify  you 
of  the  amount  when  the  insurance  company  sends  it  to 
me.  In  return  for  your  check,  I  shall  send  you  the  letters 
and  other  things  you  sent  Madame  Laeour,  or  burn  them, 
as  you  direct.  Except  for  this,  the  affair  is  ended.  I  need 
not  detain  you  further." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  chum.  Don't  take  it  this  way,"  cried 
Watts.  "  Do  you  think ? " 

"  I  end  it  as  suits  me,"  said  Peter.      "  Good-day." 

"  But,  at  least  you  must  let  me  pay  you  a  fee  for  your 
work?" 

Peter  turned  on  Watts  quickly,  but  checked  the  move- 
ment and  the  words  on  his  tongue.  He  only  reiterated. 
"Good-day." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  have  it  so,"  Watts  went  to  the  door, 
but  hesitated.  "Just  as  you  please.  If,  later,  you  change 
your  mind,  send  me  word.  I  shan't  cherish  any  feeling 
for  this.  I  want  to  be  friends. " 

"Good-day,"  said  Peter.  Watts  passed  out,  closing 
the  door. 

Peter  sat  down  at  his  desk,  doing  nothing,  for  nearly  an 
hour.  How  long  he  would  have  sat  will  never  be  known, 
if  his  brown  study  had  not  been  ended  by  Rivington's 
entrance.  "  The  Appeals  have  just  handed  down  their 
decision  in  the  Henley  case.  We  win." 

"  I  thought  we  should,"  said  Peter  mechanically. 

"  Why,  Peter  !  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  look 
as  seedy  as " 

"  As  I  feel,"  said  Peter.  "  I'm  going  to  stop  work  and 
take  a  ride,  to  see  if  I  can't  knock  some  of  my  dulness 
out  of  me."  Within  an  hour  he  was  at  the  Riding  Club. 


198  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Hello,"  said  the  stable  man.  "  Twice  in  one  day  ? 
You're  not  often  here  at  this  hour,  sir.  Which  horse  will 
you  have  ? " 

"  Give  me  whichever  has  the  most  life  in  him." 

' '  It's  Mutineer  has  the  devil  in  him  always,  sir.  Though 
it's  not  yourself  need  fear  any  horse.  Only  look  out  for 
the  ice." 

Peter  rode  into  the  Park  in  ten  minutes.  He  met 
Lispenard  at  the  first  turn. 

"  Hello  !  It's  not  often  you  are  here  at  this  hour." 
Lispenard  reined  his  horse  up  alongside. 

11  No,"  said  Peter.  "  I've  been  through  a  very  revolt — 
a  very  disagreeable  experience,  and  I've  come  up  here  to 
get  some  fresh  air.  I  don't  want  to  be  sociable." 

"  That's  right.  Truthful  as  ever.  But  one  word  before 
we  separate.  Keppel  has  just  received  two  proofs  of 
Haden's  last  job.  He  asks  awful  prices  for  them,  but 
you  ought  to  see  them." 

"  Thanks."  And  the  two  friends  separated  as  only  true 
friends  can  separate. 

Peter  rode  on,  buried  in  his  own  thoughts.  The  park 
was  rather  empty,  for  dark  comes  on  early  in  March,  and 
dusk  was  already  in  the  air.  He  shook  himself  presently, 
and  set  Mutineer  at  a  sharp  canter  round  the  larger  circle 
of  the  bridle  path.  But  before  they  had  half  swung  the 
circle,  he  was  deep  in  thought  again,  and  Mutineer 
was  taking  his  own  pace.  Peter  deserved  to  get  a  stumble 
and  a  broken  neck  or  leg,  but  he  didn't.  He  was  saved 
from  it  by  an  incident  which  neVer  won  any  credit  for  its 
good  results  to  Peter,  however  much  credit  it  gained  him. 

Peter  was  so  deeply  engrossed  in  his  own  thoughts  that 
he  did  not  hear  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  feet  behind  him, 
just  as  he  struck  the  long  stretch  of  the  comparatively 
straight  path  along  the  Reservoir.  But  Mutineer  did,  and 
pricked  up  his  ears.  Mutineer  could  not  talk  articulately, 
but  all  true  lovers  of  horses  understand  their  language. 
Mutineer's  cogitations,  transmuted  into  human  speech, 
were  something  to  this  effect : 

1 '  Hello  !  What's  that  horse  trying  to  do  ?  He  can't  for 
a  moment  expect  to  pass  me  1 " 

But  the  next  moment  a  roan  mare  actually  did  pass  him, 
going  at  a  swift  gallop. 

Mutineer  laid  his  ears  back.      "The  impudence  ! "'  he 


RUNNING  A  WA  Y.  199 

said.  "  Does  that  little  whiffet  of  a  roan  mare  think  she's 
going  to  show  me  her  heels  ?  I'll  teach  her  !  "  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  both  the  men  and  horses  who  are  most 
seldom  passed  by  their  kind,  object  to  it  most  when  it 
happens. 

Peter  suddenly  came  back  to  affairs  earthly  to  find  Muti- 
neer just  settling  into  a  gait  not  permitted  by  Park  regula- 
tions. He  drew  rein,  and  Mutineer,  knowing  that  the  fun 
was  up,  danced  round  the  path  in  his  bad  temper. 

"  Really,  "he  said  to  himself,  "if  I  wasn't  so  fond  of 
you,  I'd  give  you  and  that  mare,  an  awful  lesson.  Hello  1 
not  another?  This  is  too  much  ! " 

The  last  remarks  had  relation  to  more  clattering  of  hoofs. 
In  a  moment  a  groom  was  in  view,  going  also  at  a  gallop. 

11  Hout  of  the  way,"  cried  the  groom,  to  Peter,  for  Muti- 
neer was  waltzing  round  the  path  in  a  way  that  suggested 
"  no  thoroughfare."  "  Hi'm  after  that  runaway." 

Peter  looked  after  the  first  horse,  already  a  hundred  feet 
away.  He  said  nothing  to  groom  nor  horse,  but  Mutineer 
understood  the  sudden  change  in  the  reins,  even  before 
he  felt  that  maddening  prick  of  the  spurs.  There  was  a 
moment's  wild  grinding  of  horse's  feet  on  the  slippery 
road  and  then  Mutineer  had  settled  to  his  lc*ng,  tremen- 
dous stride. 

"Now,  I'll  show  you,"  he  remarked,  "but  if  only  he 
wouldn't  hold  me  so  damned  tight."  We  must  forgive 
Mutineer  for  swearing.  He  lived  so  much  with  the  stable- 
men, that,  gentleman  though  he  was,  evil  communications 
could  not  be  entirely  resisted. 

Peter  was  riding  "cool."  He  knew  he  could  run  the 
mare  down,  but  he  noticed  that  the  woman,  who  formed 
the  mount,  was  sitting  straight,  and  he  could  tell  from  the 
position  of  her  elbows  that  she  was  still  pulling  on  her 
reins,  if  ineffectually.  He  thought  it  best  therefore  to  let 
the  mare  wind  herself  before  he  forced  himself  up,  lest  he 
should  only  make  the  runaway  horse  the  wilder.  So  after 
a  hundred  yards'  run,  he  drew  Mutineer  down  to  the  mare's 
pace,  about  thirty  feet  behind  her. 

They  ran  thus  for  another  hundred  yards.  Then  sud- 
denly Peter  saw  the  woman  drop  her  reins,  and  catch  at  the 
saddle.  His  quick  eye  told  him  in  a  moment  what  had 
happened.  The  saddle-girth  had  broken,  or  the  saddle 
was  turning.  He  dug  his  spurs  into  Mutineer,  so  that  the 


200  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

horse,  who  had  never  had  such  treatment,  thought  thcJ;  he 
kad  been  touched  by  two  branding  irons.  He  gave  a 
furious  shake  of  his  ears,  and  really  showed  the  blood  of 
his  racing  Kentucky  forebears.  In  fifteen  seconds  the 
horse  was  running  even  with  the  mare. 

Peter  had  intended  merely  to  catch  the  reins  of  the  run- 
away, trusting  to  his  strength  to  do  what  a  woman's  could 
not.  But  when  he  came  up  alongside,  he  saw  that  the  sad- 
dle had  turned  so  far  that  the  rider  could  not  keep  her 
seat  ten  seconds  longer.  So  he  dropped  his  reins,  bent 
over,  and  putting  his  arms  about  the  woman  lifted  her  off 
the  precarious  seat,  and  put  her  in  front  of  him.  He  held 
her  there  with  one  arm,  and  reached  for  his  reins.  But 
Mutineer  had  tossed  them  over  his  head. 

"  Mutineer!"  said  Peter,  with  an  inflection  of  voice 
decidedly  commanding. 

"  I  covered  a  hundred  yards  to  your  seventy,"  Mutineer 
told  the  roan  mare.  "On  a  mile  track  I  could  go  round 
you  twice,  without  getting  out  of  breath.  I  could  beat 
you  now,  even  with  double  mount  easily.  But  my  Peter 
has  dropped  the  reins  and  that  puts  me  on  my  honor. 
Good-bye."  Mutineer  checked  his  great  racing  stride, 
broke  to  a  canter ;  dropped  to  a  trot ;  altered  that  to  a 
walk,  and  stopped. 

Peter  had  been  rather  astonished  at  the  weight  he  had 
lifted.  Peter  had  never  lifted  a  woman  before.  His 
chief  experience  in  the  weight  of  human-kind  had  been  in 
wrestling  matches  at  the  armory,  and  only  the  largest  and 
most  muscular  men  in  the  regiment  cared  to  try  a  bout 
with  him.  Of  course  Peter  knew  as  a  fact  that  women 
were  lighter  than  men,  but  after  bracing  himself,  much  as 
he  would  have  done  to  try  the  cross-buttock  with  two 
hundred  pounds  of  bone  and  brawn,  he  marvelled  much 
at  the  ease  with  which  he  transferred  the  rider.  "She 
can't  weigh  over  eighty  pounds,"  he  thought.  Which 
was  foolish,  for  the  woman  actually  weighed  one  hundred 
and  eighteen,  as  Peter  afterwards  learned. 

The  woman  also  surprised  Peter  in  another  way. 
Scarcely  had  she  been  placed  in  front  of  him,  than  she 
put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  buried  her  face  in  his 
shoulder.  She  was  not  crying,  but  she  was  drawing  her 
breath  in  great  gasps  in  a  manner  which  scared  Peter 
terribly.  Peter  had  never  had  a  woman  cling  to  him  in 


RUNNING  A  WA  Y.  2OI 

that  way,  and  frightened  as  he  was,  he  made  three  very 
interesting  discoveries  : 

1.  That  a  man's  shoulder  seems  planned  by  nature  as  a 
resting  place  for  a  woman's  head. 

2.  That  a  man's  arm  about  a  woman's  waist  is  a  very 
pleasant  position  for  the  arm. 

3.  That  a  pair  of  woman's  arms  round  a  man's  neck, 
with  the  clasped  hands,  even  if  gloved,  just  resting  on  the 
back  of  his  neck,  is  very  satisfying. 

Peter  could  not  see  much  of  the  woman.  His  arm  told 
him  that  she  was  decidedly  slender,  and  he  could  just  catch 
sight  of  a  small  ear  and  a  cheek,  whose  roundness  proved 
the  youth  of  the  person.  Otherwise  he  could  only  see  a 
head  of  yery  pretty  brown  hair,  the  smooth  dressing  of 
which  could  not  entirely  conceal  its  longing  to  curl. 

When  Mutineer  stopped,  Peter  did  not  quite  know  what 
to  do.  Of  course  it  was  his  duty  t0  hold  the  woman  till 
she  recovered  herself.  That  was  a  plain  duty — and  pleas- 
ant. Peter  said  to  himself  that  he  really  was  sorry  for 
her,  and  thought  his  sensations  were  merely  the  satis- 
faction of  a  father  in  aiding  his  daughter.  We  must  for- 
give his  foolishness,  for  Peter  had  never  been  a  father, 
and  so  did  not  know  the  parental  feeling. 

It  had  taken  Mutineer  twenty  seconds  to  come  to  a 
stand,  and  for  ten  seconds  after,  no  change  in  the  con- 
dition occurred.  Then  suddenly  the  woman  stopped  her 
gasps.  Peter,  who  was  looking  down  at  her,  saw  the  pale 
cheek  redden.  The  next  moment,  the  arms  were  taken 
from  his  neck  and  the  woman  was  sitting  up  straight  in 
front  of  him.  He  got  a  downward  look  at  the  face,  and 
he  thought  it  was  the  most  charming  he  had  ever  seen. 

The  girl  kept  her  eyes  lowered,  while  she  said  firmly, 
though  with  traces  of  breathlessness  and  tremulo  in  her 
voice,  "Please  help  me  down." 

Peter  was  out  of  his  saddle  in  a  moment,  and  lifted  the 
girl  down.  She  staggered  slightly  on  reaching  the  ground, 
so  that  Peter  said:  "You  had  better  lean  on  me." 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  still  looking  down,  "I  will  lean 
against  the  horse."  She  rested  against  Mutineer,  who 
looked  around  to  see  who  was  taking  this  insulting  liberty 
with  a  Kentucky  gentleman.  Having  looked  at  her  he  said: 
"  You're  quite  welcome,  you  pretty  dear  !  "  Peter  thought 
he  would  like  to  be  a  horse,  but  then  it  occurred  to  him 


202  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

that  equines  could  not  have  had  what  he  had  just  had,  so 
he  became  reconciled  to  his  lot. 

The  girl  went  on  flushing",  even  after  she  was  safely 
leaning  against  Mutineer.  There  was  another  ten  sec- 
onds' pause,  and  then  she  said,  still  with  downcast 
eyes,  "I  was  sc  frightened,  that  I  did  not  know  what  I 
was  doing." 

"You  behaved  very  well,"  said  Peter,  in  the  most  com- 
forting voice  he  could  command.  "  You  held  your  horse 
Splendidly." 

"I  wasn't  a  bit  frightened,  till  the  saddle  began  to 
turn."  The  girl  still  kept  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  still 
blushed.  She  was  undergoing  almost  the  keenest  morti- 
fication possible  for  a  woman.  She  had  for  a  moment 
been  horrified  by  the  thought  that  she  had-  behaved  in 
this  way  to  a  groom.  But  a  stranger — a  gentleman — was 
worse !  She  had  not  looked  at  Peter's  face,  but  his  irre- 
proachable riding-rig  had  been  noticed.  t  "  If  it  had  only 
been  a  policeman,"  she  thought.  "What  can  I  say  to 
him  ?  " 

Peter  saw  the  mortification  without  quite  understanding 
it.  He  knew,  however,  it  was  his  duty  to  ease  it,  and 
took  the  best  way  by  giving  her  something^  else  to  think 
about. 

' '  As  soon  as  you  feel  able  to  walk,  you  had  better  take 
my  arm.  We  can  get  a  cab  at  the  72 d  Street  entrance, 
probably.  If  you  don't  feel  able  to  walk,  sit  down  on  that 
stone,  and  I'll  bring  a  cab.  It  oughtn't  to  take  me  ten 
minutes." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  the  girl,  raising  her  eyes, 
and  taking  a  look  at  Peter's  face  for  the  first  time. 

A  thrill  went  through  Peter. 

The  girl  had  slate-colored  eyes !  I 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
A  DREAM. 

SOMETHING  in  Peter's  face  seemed  to  reassure  the  girl, 
for  though  she  looked  down  after  the  glance,  she  ceased 
leaning  against  the  horse,  and  said,  "  I  behaved  very 


A  DREAM.  20% 

i&> 

foolishly,  of  course.  Now  I  \vill  do  whatever  you  think 
best." 

Before  Peter  had  recovered  enough  from  his  thrill  to 
put  what  he  thought  into  speech,  a  policeman  came  riding1 
towards  them,  leading  the  roan  mare.  "Any  harm 
done  ?  "  he  called. 

"None,  fortunately.  Where  can  we  get  a  cab?  Oi 
can  you  bring  one  here  ?  " 

"I'm  afraid  there'll  be  none  nearer  than  Fifty-ninth 
Street.  They  leave  the  other  entrances  before  it's  as  dark 
as  this." 

"Never  mind  the  cab,"  said  the  girl.  "If  you'll  help 
me  to  mount,  I'll  ride  home." 

"That's  the  pluck  !  "  said  the  policeman. 

"  Do  you  think  you  had  bettter  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"Yes.  I'm  not  a  bit  afraid.  If  you'll  just  tighten  the 
girth." 

It  seemed  to  Peter  he  had  never  encountered  such  a 
marvellously  fascinating  combination  as  was  indicated  by 
the  clinging  position  of  a  minute  ago  and  the  erect  one  of 
the  present  moment.  He  tightened  the  girth  with  a  pull 
that  made  the  roan  mare  wonder  if  a  steam-winch  had 
hold  of  the  end,  and  then  had  the  pleasure  of  the  little 
foot  being  placed  in  his  hand  for  a  moment,  as  he  lifted 
the  girl  into  the  saddle. 

"I  shall  ride  with  you,"  he  said,  mounting  instantly. 

"Beg  pardon,"  said  the  policeman.  "I  must  take 
your  names.  We  are  required  to  report  all  such  things 
to  headquarters." 

"  Why,  Williams,  don't  you  know  me  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

Williams  looked  at  Peter,  now  for  the  first  time  on  a 
level  with  him.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Stirling.  It 
was  so  dark,  and  you  are  so  seldom  here  afternoons  that 
I  didn't  know  you." 

"Tell  the  chief  that  this  needn't  go  on  record,  nor  be 
given  to  the  reporters." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Stirling." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  girl  in  a  frank  yet  shy 
way,  " but  will  you  tell  me  your  first  name? " 

Peter  was  rather  astonished,  but  he  said  "  Peter." 

"Oh!"  cried  the  girl,  looking  Peter  in  the  face.  "I 
understand  it  now.  I  didn't  think  I  could  behave  so  to  a 
stranger  !  I  must  have  felt  it  was  you."  She  was  smiling 


104  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

joyfully,  and  she  did  not  drop  her  eyes  from  his.  On  the 
contrary  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

Of  course  Peter  took  it.  He  did  not  stop  to  ask  if  it 
was  right  or  wrong  to  hold  a  young  girl's  hand.  If  it  was 
wrong,  it  was  certainly  a  very  small  one,  judging  from 
the  size  of  the  hand. 

"  I  was  so  mortified  !     But  if  it's  you  it's  all  right." 

Peter  thought  this  mood  of  the  girl  was  both  delightful 
and  complimentary,  but  he  failed  to  understand  anything 
of  it,  except  its  general  friendliness.  His  manner  may 
have  suggested  this,  for  suddenly  the  girl  said  : 

"But  of  course,  you  do  not  know  who  I  am?  How 
foolish  of  me  !  I  am  Leonore  D'Alloi." 

It  was  Peter's  turn  to  gasp.  "Not ?"  he  began 

and  then  stopped. 

"Yes,  "said  the  girl  joyfully,  as  if  Peter's  "not  "had 
had  something  delightful  in  it. 

"But— she's  a  child." 

"I'll  be  eighteen  next  week,"  said  Leonore,  with  all 
the  readiness  of  that  number  of  years  to  proclaim  its 
age. 

Peter  concluded  that  he  must  accept  the  fact.  Watts 
could  have  a  child  that  old.  Having  reached  this  con- 
clusion, he  said,  "I  ought  to  have  known  you  by  your 
likeness  to  your  mother."  Which  was  an  unintentional 
lie.  Her  mother's  eyes  she  had,  as  well  as  the  long 
lashes ;  and  she  had  her  mother's  pretty  figure,  though 
she  was  taller.  But  otherwise  she  was  far  more  like  Watts. 
Her  curly  hair,  her  curvy  mouth,  the  dimple,  and  the 
contour  of  the  face  were  his.  Leonore  D'Alloi  was  a  far 

freater  beauty  than  her  mother  had  ever  been.  But  to 
eter,  it  was  merely  a  renewal  of  his  dream. 

Just  at  this  point  the  groom  rode  up.  "Beg  pardon, 
Miss  D'Alloi,"  he  said,  touching  his  cap.  "My  'orse 
went  down  on  a  bit  of  nice. " 

"You  are  not  hurt,  Belden?  "  said  Miss  D'Alloi. 

Peter  thought  the  anxious  tone  heavenly.  He  rather 
wished  he  had  broken  something  himself. 

"No.     Nor  the  'orse." 

"Then  it's  all  right.  Mr.  Stirling,  we  need  not  inter- 
rupt your  ride.  Belden  will  see  me  home." 

Belden  see  her  home !  Peter  would  see  him  do  it  1 
That  was  what  Peter  thought.  He  said,  "  I  shall  ride 


A  DREAM.  205 

you,   of  course/'     So  they  started  their  horses,  the 
groom  dropping  behind. 

"  Do  you  want  to  try  it  again  ?  "  asked  Mutineer  of  the 
roan. 

"No,"  said  the  mare.      "You  are  too  big  and  strong." 

Leonore  was  just  saying  :  "I  could  hear  the  pound  of 
a  horse's  feet  behind  me,  but  I  thought  it  was  the  groom, 
and  knew  he  could  never  overtake  Fly-away.  So  when 
I  felt  the  saddle  begin  to  slip,  I  thought  I  was — was 
going  to  be  dragged — as  I  once  saw  a  woman  in  Eng- 
land— Oh  ! — and  then  suddenly  I  saw  a  horse's  head,  and 
then  I  felt  some  one  take  hold  of  me  so  firmly  that  I  didn't 
have  to  hold  myself  at  all,  and  I  knew  I  was  safe.  Oh, 
how  nice  it  is  to  be  big  and  strong !  " 

Peter  thought  so  too. 

So  it  is  the  world  over.  Peter  and  Mutineer  felt  happy 
and  proud  in  their  strength,  and  Leonore  and  Fly-away 
glorified  them  for  it.  Yet  in  spite  of  this,  as  Peter  looked 
down  at  the  curly  head,  from  his  own  and  Mutineer's 
altitude,  he  felt  no  superiority,  and  knew  that  the  slightest 
wish  expressed  by  that  small  mouth,  would  be  as  strong 
with  him  as  if  a  European  army  obeyed  its  commands. 

"What  a  tremendous  horse  you  have?  "  said  Leonore. 

"Isn't  he  ?  "  assented  Peter.      " He's  got  a  bad  temper, 
I'm   sorry   to   say,  but   I'm  very  fond  of  him.     He  was 
given  me  by  my  regiment,  and  was  the  choice  of  a  very 
dear  friend  now  dead. " 
1  Who  was  that  ?  " 

1  No  one  you  know.     A  Mr.  Costell." 
'Oh,  yes  I  do.     I've  heard  all  about  him." 
1  What  do  you  know  of  Mr.  Costell  ?  " 
'What  Miss  De  Voe  told  me." 
'  Miss  De  Voe  ? " 

'Yes.  We  saw  her  both  times  in  Europe.  Once  at 
Nice,  and  once  in — in  1882 — at  Maggiore.  The  first  time, 
I  was  only  six,  but  she  used  to  tell  me  stories  about  you 
and  the  little  children  in  the  angle.  The  last  time  she 
told  me  all  she  could  remember  about  you.  We  used  to 
drift  about  the  lake  moonlight  nights,  and  talk  about 
you." 

"  What  made  that  worth  doing  to  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  from  the  very  beginning,  that  I  can  remem- 
ber, papa  was  always  talking  about  '  dear  old  Peter '  "— 


«o6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

the  talker  said  the  last  three  words  in  such  a  tone,  and 
shot  such  a  look  up  at  Peter,  half  laughing  and  half 
timid,  that  in  combination  they  nearly  made  Peter  reel  in 
his  saddle — "  and  you  seemed  almost  the  only  one  of  his 
friends  he  did  speak  of,  so  I  became  very  curious  about 
you  as  a  little  girl,  and  then  Miss  De  Voe  made  me  more 
interested,  so  that  I  began  questioning  Americans,  because 
I  was  really  anxious  to  learn  things  concerning  you. 
Nearly  every  one  did  know  something,  so  I  found  out  a 
great  deal  about  you." 

Peter  was  realizing  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  how 
champagne  made  one  feel. 

"Tell  me  whom  you  found  who  knew  anything  about 
me?" 

"Oh,  nearly  everybody  knew  something.  That  is, 
every  one  we've  met  in  the  last  five  years.  Before  that, 
there  was  Miss  De  Voe,  and  grandpapa,  of  course,  when 
he  came  over  in  1879 " 

"But,"  interrupted  Peter,  "I  don't  think  I  had  met  him 
once  before  that  time,  except  at  the  Shrubberies." 

"No,  he  hadn't  seen  you.  But  he  knew  a  lot  about 
you,  from  Mr.  Lapham  and  Mr.  Avery,  and  some  other 
men  who  had  met  you." 

"Who  else?" 

"  Miss  Leroy,  mamma's  bridesmaid,  who  spent  two 
weeks  at  our  villa  near  Florence,  and  Dr.  Purple,  your 
clergyman,  who  was  in  the  same  house  with  us  at  Ober-- 
Ammergau,  and — and — oh  the  best  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. ) 
Rivington.  They  were  in  Jersey,  having  their  honeymoon. 
They  told  me  more  than  all  the  rest  put  together." 

"I  feel  quite  safe  in  their  hands.  Dorothy  and  I/ 
formed  a  mutual  admiration  society  a  good  many  years 
ago." 

"She  and  Mr.  Rivington  couldn't  say  enough  good  of 
you." 

"  You  must  make  allowance  for  the  fact  that  they  were 
on  their  wedding  journey,  and  probably  saw  everything 
rose-colored. " 

"That  was  it.  Dorothy  told  me  about  your  giving  Mr. 
Rivington  a  full  partnership,  in  order  that  Mr.  Ogden 
should  give  his  consent." 

Peter  laughed. 

"  Ray  swore  that  he  wouldn't  tell.     And  Dorothy  has 


A  DREAM.  207 

always  appeared  ignorant     And  yet  she  knew  it  on  her 
wedding  trip." 

"She  couldn't  help  it.  She  said  she  must  tell  some 
one,  she  was  so  happy.  So  she  told  mamma  and  me. 
She  showed  us  your  photograph.  Papa  and  mamma  said 
it  was  like  you,  but  I  don't  think  it  is." 

Again  Leonore  looked  up  at  him.  Leonore,  when  she 
glanced  at  a  man,  had  the  same  frank,  fearless  gaze  that 
her  mother  had  of  yore.  But  she  did  not  look  as  often  nor 
as  long,  and  did  not  seem  so  wrapped  up  in  the  man's 
remarks  when  she  looked.  We  are  afraid  even  at  seven- 
teen that  Leonore  had  discovered  that  she  had  very  fetch- 
ing eyes,  and  did  not  intend  to  cheapen  them,  by  showing 
them  too  much.  During  the  whole  of  this  dialogue,  Peter 
had  had  only  "come-and-go"  glimpses  of  those  eyes. 
He  wanted  to  see  more  of  them,  He  longed  to  lean  over 
and  turn  the  face  up  and  really  look  down  into  them. 
Still,  he  could  see  the  curly  hair,  and  the  little  ear,  and 
the  round  of  the  cheek,  and  the  long  lashes.  For  the 
moment  Peter  did  not  agree  with  Mr.  Weller  that  "life 
isn't  all  beer  and  skittles." 

"  I've  been  so  anxious  to  meet  you.  I've  begged  papa 
gver  since  we  landed  to  take  me  to  see  you.  And  he's 
promised  me,  over  and  over  again,  to  do  it,  but  something 
always  interfered.  You  see,  I  felt  very  strange  and — and 
queer,  not  knowing  people  of  my  own  country,  and  I  felt 
that  I  really  knew  you,  and  wouldn't  have  to  begin  new 
as  I  do  with  other  people.  I  do  so  dread  next  winter , 
when  I'm  to  go  into  society.  I  don't  know  what  I  shall 
do.  I'll  not  know  any  one." 

"You'll  know  me."" 

"  But  you  don't  go  into  society." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do.  Sometimes,  that  is.  I  shall  probably 
go  more  next  winter.  I've  shut  myself  up  too  much." 
This  was  a  discovery  of  Peter's  made  in  the  last  ten 
seconds. 

"  How  nice  that  will  be  !  And  will  you  promise  to 
give  me  a  great  deal  of  attention  ?  " 

"You'll  probably  want  very  little.  I  don't  dance." 
Peter  suddenly  became  conscious  that  Mr.  Weller  was 
right 

"But you  can  learn.     Please.     I  do  so  love  valsing." 

Petet  almost  reeled  again  at  the  thought  of  waltzing 


toS  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

with  Leonore.  Was  it  possible  life  had  such  richness  in 
it  ?  Then  he  said  with  a  bitter  note  in  his  voice  very  un- 
usual to  him  : 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  too  old  to  learn." 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Leonore.  "You  don't  look  any 
older  than  lots  of  men  I've  seen  valsing.  Young  men  I 
mean.  And  I've  seen  men  seventy  years  old  dancing  in 
Europe." 

Whether  Peter  could  have  kept  his  seat  much  longer  is  to 
be  questioned.  But  fortunately  for  him,  the  horses  here 
came  to  a  stop  in  front  of  a  stable. 

"Why,"  said  Leonore,  "  here  we  are  already  !  What  a 
short  ride  it  has  been." 

Peter  thought  so  too,  and  groaned  over  the  end  of  it. 
But  then  he  suddenly  remembered  that  Leonore  was  to 
be  lifted  from  her  horse.  He  became  cold  with  the 
thought  that  she  might  jump  before  he  could  get  to  her, 
and  he  was  off  his  horse,  and  by  her  side  with  the  quick- 
ness of  a  military  training.  He  put  his  hands  up,  and  for 
a  moment  had — well,  Peter  could  usually  express  himself 
but  he  could  not  put  that  moment  into  words.  And  it 
was  not  merely  that  Leonore  had  been  in  his  arms  for  a 
moment,  but  that  he  had  got  a  good  look  up  into  her 
eyes. 

"I  wish  you  would  take  my  horse  round  to  the  Riding 
Club,"  he  told  the  groom.  "I  wish  to  see  Miss  D'Alloi 
home. " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  but  my  maid  is  here  in  the 
brougham,  so  I  need  not  trouble  you.  Good-bye,  and 
thank  you.  Oh,  thank  you  so  much  !  "  She  stood  very 
close  to  Peter,  and  looked  up  into  his  eyes  with  her  own. 
"  There's  no  one  I  would  rather  have  had  save  me." 

She  stepped  into  the  brougham,  and  Peter  closed  the 
door.  He  mounted  his  horse  again,  and  straightening 
himself  up,  rode  away. 

"Hi  thought,"  remarked  the  groom  to  the  stableman, 
"that  'e  didn't  know  'ow  to  sit  'is  'orse,  but  'e's  all  right, 
arter  all.  'E  rides  like  ha  'orse  guards  capting,  w'en  'e 
don't  'ave  a  girl  to  bother  'im." 

Would  that  girl  bother  him  ? 


FRIENDS?*  209 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
"  FRIENDS." 

AT  first  blush,  judging  from  Peter's  behavior,  the  girl 
was  not  going  to  bother  him.  Peter  left  his  horse  at  the 
stable,  and  taking  a  hansom,  went  to  his  club.  There  he 
spent  a  calm  half  hour  over  the  evening  papers.  His 
dinner  was  eaten  with  equal  coolness.  Not  till  he  had 
reached  his  study  did  he  vary  his  ordinary  daily  routine. 
Then,  instead  of  working  or  reading,  he  rolled  a  comfort- 
able chair  up  to  the  fire,  put  on  a  fresh  log  or  two, 
opened  a  new  box  of  Bock's,  and  lighting  one,  settled 
back  in  the  chair.  How  many  hours  he  sat  and  how 
many  cigars  he  smoked  are  not  recorded,  lest  the'statement 
should  make  people  skeptical  of  the  narrative. 

Of  course  Peter  knew  that  life  had  not  lost  its  troubles. 
He  was  not  fooling  himself  as  to  what  lay  before  him. 
He  was  not  callous  to  the  sufferings  already  endured. 
But  he  put  them,  past,  and  to  come,  from  him  for  one 
evening,  and  sat  smoking  lazily  with  a  dreamy  look  on 
his  face.  He  had  lately  been  studying  the  subject  of 
Asiatic  cholera,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  be  thinking  of 
that.  He  had  just  been  through  what  he  called  a  "revolt- 
ing experience,"  but  it  is  doubtful  if  he  was  thinking  of 
that.  Whatever  his  thoughts  were,  they  put  a  very  dif- 
ferent look  on  his  face  than  that  which  it  used  to  wear 
while  he  studied  blank  walls. 

When  Peter  sat  down,  rather  later  than  usual  at  his  office 
desk  the  next  morning,  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper,  and 
wrote,  "Dear  sir,"  upon  it.  Then  he  tore  it  up.  He  took 
another  and  wrote,  "My  dear  Mr.  D'Alloi."  He  tore 
that  up.  Another  he  began,  "Dear  Watts."  A  moment 
later  it  was  in  the  paper  basket.  ' '  My  dear  friend, "  served 
to  bring  a  similar  fate  to  the  fourth.  Then  Peter  rose  and 
strolled  about  his  office  aimlessly.  Finally  he  went  out 
into  a  gallery  running  along  the  various  rooms,  and,  open- 
ing a  door,  put  his  head  in, 
14 


310  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"You  hypocritical  scoundrel,"  he  said.      "You  swore 
to  me  that  you  would  never  tell  a  living  soul." 
"Well  ?  "  came  a  very  guilty  voice  back. 
"And  Dorothy's  known  all  this  time." 
Dead  silence. 
"And  you've  both  been  as  innocent  as — as  you  were 


guilty." 
"Loc 


here,  Peter,  I  can't  make  you  understand, 
because  you've — you've  never  been  on  a  honeymoon. 
Really,  old  fellow,  I  was  so  happy  over  your  generosity 
in  giving  me  a  full  share,  when  I  didn't  bring  a  tenth  of 
the  business,  and  so  happy  over  Dorothy,  that  if  I  hadn't 
told  her,  I  should  have  simply — bust.  She  swore  she'd 
never  tell.  And  now  she's  told  you  !  " 

'No,  but  she  told  some  one  else." 

'Never!" 

'Yes." 

'  Then  she's  broken  her  word.     She " 

'The  Pot  called  the  Kettle  black." 

"But  to  tell  one's  own  wife  is  different.  I  thought  she 
could  keep  a  secret." 

"How  can  you  expect  a  person  to  keep  a  secret  when 
you  can't  keep  it  yourself?  "  Peter  and  Ray  were  both 
laughing. 

Ray  said  to  himself,  "Peter  has  some  awfully  knotty 
point  on  hand,  and  is  resting  the  brain  tissue  for  a  mo- 
ment" Ray  had  noticed,  when  Peter  interrupted  him 
during  office  hours,  on  matters  not  relating  to  business, 
that  he  had  a  big  or  complex  question  in  hand. 

Peter  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to  his  room.  Then 
he  took  a  fifth  sheet  of  paper,  and  wrote  : 

"  WATTS  :  A  day's  thought  has  brought  a  change  of  feeling  on  my 
part.  Neither  can  be  the  better  for  alienation  or  unkind  thoughts.  I 
regret  already  my  attitude  of  yesterday.  Let  us  cancel  all  that  has  hap- 
pened since  our  college  days,  and  put  it  aside  as  if  it  had  never  occurred. 

PETER." 

Just  as  he  had  finished  this,  his  door  opened  softly. 
Peter  did  not  hear  it,  but  took  the  letter  up  and  read  it 
slowly, 

"Boo!" 

Peter  did  not  jump  at  the  Boo.  He  looked  up  very 
calmly,  but  the  moment  he  looked  up,  jump  he  did.  He 


"  FRIENDS?  211 

jumped  so  that  he  was  shaking  hands  before  the  impetus 
was  lost. 

"This  is  the  nicest  kind  of  a  surprise,"  he  said. 

"Bother  you,  you  phlegmatic  old  cow,"  cried  a  merry 
voice.  "  Here  we  have  spent  ten  minutes  palavering  your 
boy,  in  order  to  make  him  let  us  surprise  you,  and  then 
when  we  spring  it  on  you,  you  don't  budge.  Wasn't  it 
shabby  treatment,  Dot  ? " 

"  You've  disappointed  us  awfully,  Mr.  Stirling." 

Peter  was  shaking  hands  more  deliberately  with  Leonore 
than  he  had  with  Watts.  He  had  been  rather  clever  in 
shaking  hands  with  him  first,  so  that  he  need  not  hurry 
himself  over  the  second.  So  he  had  a  very  nice  moment 
— all  too  short — while  Leonore's  hand  lay  in  his.  He  said, 
in  order  to  prolong  the  moment,  without  making  it  too 
marked,  "It  will  take  something  more  frightful  than  you, 
Miss  D'Alloi,  to  make  me  jump."  Then  Peter  was  sorry 
he  had  said  it,  for  Leonore  dropped  her  eyes. 

"Now,  old  man,  give  an  account  of  yourself. "  Watts 
was  speaking  jauntily,  but  not  quite  as  easily  as  he  usually 
did.  "  Here  Leonore  and  I  waited  all  last  evening,  and 
you  never  came.  So  she  insisted  that  we  come  this 
morning." 

' '  I  don't  understand  ?  "  Peter  was  looking  at  Leonore 
as  if  she  had  made  the  remark.  Leonore  was  calmly  ex- 
amining Peter's  room. 

"  Why,  even  a  stranger  would  have  called  last  night  to 
inquire  about  Dot's  health,  after  such  an  accident.  But 
for  you  not  to  do  it,  was  criminal.  If  you  have  aught  to 
say  why  sentence  should  not  now  be  passed  on  you, 
speak  now  or  forever — no — that's  the  wedding  ceremony, 
isn't  it  ?  Not  criminal  sentence — though,  on  second 
thought,  there's  not  much  difference." 

"Did  you  expect  me,  Miss  D'Alloi?" 

Miss  D'Alloi  was  looking  at  a  shelf  of  law  books  with 
her  back  to  Peter,  and  was  pretending  great  interest  in 
them.  She  did  not  turn,  but  said  "Yes." 

"I  wish  I  had  known  that,"  said  Peter,  with  the  sin- 
cerest  regret  in  his  voice. 

Miss  D'Alloi's  interest  in  legal  literature  suddenly  ceased. 
She  turned  and  Peter  had  a  momentary  glimpse  of  those 
wonderful  eyes.  Either  his  words  or  tone  had  evidently 
pleased  Miss  D'Alloi.  The  corners  of  her  mouth  were 


212  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

curving  upwards.  She  made  a  deep  courtesy  to  him  and 
said  :  "  You  will  be  glad  to  know,  Mr.  Stirling,  that  Miss 
D'Alloi  has  suffered  no  serious  shock  from  her  runaway, 
and  passed  a  good  night.  It  seemed  to  Miss  D'Alloi  that 
the  least  return  she  could  make  for  Mr.  Stirling's  kindness, 
was  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  coming  to  inquire  about 
Miss  D'Alloi's  health,  and  so  leave  Mr.  Stirling  more  time 
to  his  grimy  old  law  books." 

"  There,  sir,  I  hope  you  are  properly  crushed  for  your 
wrong-doing,"  cried  Watts. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  apologize  for  not  coming,"  said  Peter, 
"  for  that  is  my  loss  ;  but  I  can  say  that  I'm  sorry." 

"  That's  quite  enough,"  said  Leonore.  "  I  thought  per- 
haps you  didn't  want  to  be  friends.  And  as  I  like  to  have 
such  things  right  out,  I  made  papa  bring  me  down  this 
morning  so  that  I  could  see  for  myself."  She  spoke  with 
a  frankness  that  seemed  to  Peter  heavenly,  even  while  he 
grew  cold  at  the  thought  that  she  should  for  a  moment 
question  his  desire  to  be  friends. 

"Of  course  you  and  Peter  will  be  friends,"  said  Watts. 

"But  mamma  told  me  last  night — after  we  went  up- 
stairs, that  she  was  sure  Mr.  Stirling  would  never  call." 

"Never,  Dot  ?  "  cried  Watts. 

"Yes.  And  when  I  asked  her  why,  she  wouldn't  tell 
me  at  first,  but  at  last  she  said  it  was  because  he  was  so 
unsociable.  I  shan't  be  friends  with  any  one  who  won't 
come  to  see  me."  Leonore  was  apparently  looking  at  the 
floor,  but  from  under  her  lashes  she  was  looking  at  some- 
thing else. 

Whatever  Peter  may  have  felt,  he  looked  perfectly  cool. 
Too  cool,  Leonore  thought.  "  I'm  not  going  to  make  any 
vows  or  protestations  of  friendship,"  he  said.  "I  won't 
even  pledge  myself  to  come  and  see  you,  Miss  D'Alloi. 
Remember,  friendship  comes  from  the  word  free.  If  we 
are  to  be  friends,  we  must  each  leave  the  other  to  act 
freely." 

' '  Well, "  said  Leonore,  ' '  that  is,  I  suppose,  a  polite  way 
of  saying  that  you  don't  intend  to  come.  Now  I  want  to 
know  why  you  won't  ?  " 

"The  reasons  will  take  too  long  to  explain  to  you  now, 
so  I'll  defer  the  telling  till  the  first  time  I  call  on  you." 
Peter  was  smiling  down  at  her. 

Miss  D'Alloi  looked  up  at  Peter,  to  see  what  meaning 


"  FRIENDS"  213 

his  face  gave  his  last  remark.  Then  she  held  out  her  two 
hands.  "Of  course  we  are  to  be  the  best  of  friends,"  she 
said.  Peter  got  a  really  good  look  down  into  those  eyes 
as  they  shook  hands. 

The  moment  this  matter  had  been  settled,  Leonore's  man- 
ner changed.  "So  this  is  the  office  of  the  great  Peter 
Stirling  ?  "  she  said,  with  the  nicest  tone  of  interest  in  her 
voice,  as  it  seemed  to  Peter. 

"It  doesn't  look  it,"  said  Watts.  "By  George,  with 
the  business  people  say  your  firm  does,  you  ought  to  do 
better  than  this.  It's  worse  even  than  our  old  Harvard 
quarters,  and  those  were  puritanical  enough. " 

"There  is  a  method  in  its  plainness.  If  you  want  style, 
go  into  Ogden's  and  Rivington's  rooms." 

"  Why  do  you  have  the  plain  office,  Mr.  Stirling?  " 

"I  have  a  lot  of  plain  people  to  deal  with,  and  so  I  try 
to  keep  my  room  simple,  to  put  them  at  their  ease.  I've 
never  heard  of  my  losing  a  client  yet,  because  my  room 
is  as  it  is,  while  I  should  have  frightened  away  some  if  I 
had  gone  in  for  the  same  magnificence  as  my  partners." 

"But  I  say,  chum,  I  should  think  that  is  the  sort  you 
would  want  to  frighten  away.  There  can't  be  any  money 
in  their  business  ?  " 

"We  weren't  talking  of  money.  We  were  talking  of 
people.  I  am  very  glad  to  say,  that  with  my  success, 
there  has  been  no  change  in  my  relations  with  my  ward. 
They  all  come  to  me  here,  and  feel  perfectly  at  home, 
whether  they  come  as  clients,  as  co-workers,  or  merely  as 
friends." 

"  Ho,  ho,"  laughed  Watts.  "  You  wily  old  fox  !  See 
the  four  bare  walls.  The  one  shelf  of  law  books.  The 
one  cheap  cabinet  of  drawers.  The  four  simple  chairs, 
and  the  plain  desk.  Behold  the  great  politician  !  The 
man  of  the  people." 

Peter  made  no  reply.  But  Leonore  said  to  him,  "  I'm 
glad  you  help  the  poor  people  still,  Mr.  Stirling,"  and  gave 
Peter  another  glimpse  of  those  eyes.  Peter  didn't  mind 
after  that. 

' '  Look  here,  Dot, "  said  Watts.  ' '  You  mustn't  call  chum 
Mr.  Stirling.  That  won't  do.  Call  him — um — call  him 
Uncle  Peter." 

' '  I  won't, "  said  Leonore,  delighting  Peter  thereby.  ' '  Let 
me  see.  What  shall  I  call  you  ?  "  she  asked  of  Peter. 


214  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

"Honey,"  laughed  Watts. 

"What  shall  I  call  you?  "  Miss  D'Alloi  put  her  head  on 
one  side,  and  looked  at  Peter  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes: 

"You  must  decide  that,  Miss  D'Alloi/' 

"I  suppose  I  must.  I — think — I — shall — call — ryou — 
Peter. "  She  spoke  hesitatingly  till  she  said  his  name,  but 
that  went  very  smoothly.  Peter  on  the  spot  fell  in  love 
with  the  five  letters  as  she  pronounced  them. 

"Plain  Peter?"  inquired  Watts. 

"  Now  what  will  you  call  me  ?  " 

"  Miss  D'Alloi/'  said  Peter. 

"  No.     You — are — to — call — me — call — me • 

* '  Miss  D'Alloi, "  re-affirmed  Peter. 

"Then  I  will  call  you  Mr.  Stirling,  Peter." 

"  No,  you  won't." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  said  you'd  call  me  Peter." 

"  But  not  if  you  won't " 

"You  made  no  condition  at  the  time  of  promise.  Shall 
I  show  you  the  law  ?  " 

"No.     And  I  shall  not  call  you  Peter,  any  more,  Peter." 

"Then  I  shall  prosecute  you." 

"But  I  should  win  the  case,  for  I  should  hire  a  friend 
of  mine  to  defend  me.  A  man  named  Peter."  Leonore 
sat  down  in  Peter's  chair.  "I'm  going  to  write  him  at 
once  about  it."  She  took  one  of  his  printed  letter  sheets 
and  his  pen,  and,  putting  the  tip  of  the  holder  to  her  lips 
(Peter  has  that  pen  still),  thought  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  wrote  : 

DEAR  PETER  : 

I  am  threatened  with  a  prosecution.  Will  you  defend  me  ?  Address 
your  reply  to  "  Dear  Leonore.1' 

LEONORE  D'ALLOI. 

"  Now  "  she  said  to  Peter,  "you  must  write  me  a  letter  in 
reply.  Then  you  can  have  this  note."  Leonore  rose  with 
the  missive  in  her  hand. 

' '  I  never  answer  letters  till  I've  received  them. "  Peter 
took  hold  of  the  slender  wrist,  and  possessed  himself  of 
the  paper.  Then  he  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  wrote  on 
another  sheet : 

DEAR  Miss  D'ALLOI  : 

I  will  defend  you  faithfully  and  always. 

PETER  STIRLING. 


"FRIENDS."  2IJ 

"That  isn't  what  I  said,"  remarked  Miss  D'Alloi. 
"  But  I  suppose  it  will  have  to  do." 

"You  forget  one  important  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"My  retaining  fee." 

' '  Oh,  dear, "  sighed  Leonore.  "My  allowance  is  nearly 
gone.  Don't  you  ever  do  work  for  very,  very  poor  people, 
for  nothing  ?  " 

"  Not  if  their  poverty  is  pretence." 

"Oh,  but  mine  isn't.  Really.  See.  Here  is  my  purse. 
Look  for  yourself.  That's  all  I  shall  have  till  the  first  of 
the  month." 

She  gave  Peter  her  purse.  He  was  still  sitting  at  his 
desk,  and  he  very  deliberately  proceeded  to  empty  the 
contents  out  on  his  blotter.  He  handled  each  article. 
There  was  a  crisp  ten-dollar  bill,  evidently  the  last  of  those 
given  by  the  bank  at  the  beginning  of  the  month.  There 
were  two  one-dollar  bills.  There  was  a  fifty-cent  piece, 
two  quarters  and  a  dime.  A  gold  German  twenty-mark 
piece,  about  eight  inches  of  narrow  crimson  ribbon,  and 
a  glove  button,  completed  the  contents.  Peter  returned 
the  American  money  and  the  glove  button  to  the  purse 
and  handed  it  back  to  Miss  D'Alloi. 

"  You've  forgotten  the  ribbon  and  the  gold  piece/'  said 
Leonore. 

"You  were  never  more  mistaken  in  your  life,"  replied 
Peter,  with  anything  but  legal  guardedness  concerning 
unprovable  statements.  He  folded  up  the  ribbon  neatly 
and  put  it,  with  the  coin,  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"Oh,"  said  Leonore,  "I  can't  let  you  have  that 
That's  my  luck-piece." 

"Is  it?"  Peter  expressed  much  surprise  blended  with 
satisfaction  in  his  tone. 

"Yes.     You  don't  want  to  take  my  good  luck." 

"I  will  think  it  over,  and  write  you  a  legal  opinion  later, 

"  Please  !  "  Miss  D'Alloi  pleaded. 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  succeeded  in  doing — for  my- 
self." 

"But  I  want  my  luck-piece.  I  found  it  in  a  crack  of 
the  rocks  crossing  the  Ghemi.  And  I  must  have  the 
ribbon.  I  need  it  to  match  for  a  gown  it  goes  with." 
Miss  D'Alloi  put  true  anxiety  into  her  voice,  whatever  she 
really  felt 


2i6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you  match  it, "  said  Peter,  lt  and 
any  time  you  send  me  word,  I  will  go  shopping  with  you. 
As  for  your  luck,  I  shall  keep  that  for  the  present. " 

"Now  I  know,"  said  Leonore  crossly,  "  why  lawyers 
have  such  a  bad  reputation.  They  are  perfect  thieves  !  " 
She  looked  at  Peter  with  the  corners  of  her  mouth  drawn 
down.  He  gazed  at  her  with  a  very  grave  look  on  his 
face.  They  eyed  each  other  steadily  for  a  moment,  and 
then  the  corners  of  Leonore's  mouth  suddenly  curled  up- 
wards. She  tried  hard  for  a  moment  to  keep  serious. 
Then  she  gave  up  and  laughed.  Then  they  both 
laughed. 

Many  people  will  only  see  an  amusing  side  to  the 
dialogue  here  so  carefully  recorded.  If  so,  look  back  to 
the  time  when  everything  that  he  or  she  said  was  worth 
listening  to.  Or  if  there  has  never  been  a  he  or  a  she, 
imitate  Peter,  and  wait.  It  is  worth  waiting  for. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
THE   HERMITAGE. 

IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  from  this  last  reflection  of  ours, 
that  Leonore  was  not  heart-whole.  Leonore  had  merely 
had  a  few  true  friends,  owing  to  her  roving  life,  and  at 
seventeen  a  girl  craves  friends.  When,  therefore,  the  return 
to  America  was  determined  upon,  she  had  at  once  decided 
that  Peter  and  she  would  be  the  closest  of  friends.  That 
she  would  tell  him  all  her  confidences,  and  take  all  her 
troubles  to  him.  Miss  De  Voe  and  Dorothy  had  told  her 
about  Peter,  and  from  their  descriptions,  as  well  as  from 
her  father's  reminiscences,  Leonore  had  concluded  that 
Peter  was  just  the  friend  she  had  wanted  for  so  long. 
That  Leonore  held  her  eyes  down,  and  tried  to  charm  yet 
tantalize  her  intended  friend,  was  because  Leonore  could 
not  help  it,  being  only  seventeen  and  a  girl.  If  Leonore 
had  felt  anything  but  a  friendly  interest  and  liking, 
blended  with  much  curiosity,  in  Peter,  she  never  would 
have  gone  to  see  him  in  his  office,  and  would  never  have 
talked  and  laughed  so  frankly  with  him. 

As   for  Peter,    he  did   not   put   his  feelings  into  good 


THE  HERMITAGE.  217 

docketed  shape.  He  did  not  attempt  to  label  them  at  all. 
He  had  had  a  delicious  half-hour  yesterday.  He  had 
decided,  the  evening  before,  that  he  must  see  those  slate- 
colored  eyes  again,  if  he  had  to  go  round  the  world  in 
pursuit  of  them.  How  he  should  do  it,  he  had  not  even 
thought  out,  till  the  next  morning.  He  had  understood 
very  clearly  that  the  owner  of  those  slate-colored  eyes 
was  really  an  unknown  quantity  to  him.  He  had  under* 
stood,  too,  that  the  chances  were  very  much  against  his 
caring  to  pursue  those  eyes  after  he  knew  them  better. 
But  he  was  adamant  that  he  must  see  those  eyes  again, 
and  prove  for  himself  whether  they  were  but  an  ignis 
fafuus,  or  the  radiant  stars  that  Providence  had  cast  for 
the  horoscope  of  Peter  Stirling.  He  was  studying  those 
eyes,  with  their  concomitants,  at  the  present  time.  He 
was  studying  them  very  coolly,  to  judge  from  his  appear- 
ance and  conduct.  Yet  he  was  enjoying  the  study  in  a 
way  that  he  had  never  enjoyed  the  study  of  somebody 
"On  Torts."  Somebody  "On  Torts,"  never  looked  like 
that.  Somebody  "On  Torts,"  never  had  luck-pieces,  and 
silk  ribbons.  Somebody  "On  Torts,"  never  wrote  letters 
and  touched  the  end  of  pens  to  its  lips.  Somebody  "On 
Torts,"  never  courtesied,  nor  looked  out  from  under  its 
eyelashes,  nor  called  him  Peter. 

While  this  investigation  had  been  progressing,  Watts 
had  looked  at  the  shelf  of  law  books,  had  looked  out  of 
the  window,  had  whistled,  and  had  yawned.  Finally,  in 
sheer  ennui  he  had  thrown  open  a  door,  and  looked  to 
see  what  lay  beyond. 

"  Ha,  ha  ! "  he  cried.  "All  is  discovered.  See  !  Here 
sits  Peter  Stirling,  the  ward  politician,  enthroned  in  Jef- 
fersonian  simplicity.  But  here,  behind  the  arras,  sits 
Peter  Stirling,  the  counsellor  of  banks  and  railroads,  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  gorgeousness  of  the  golden  East. "' 
Watts  passed  into  the  room  beyond. 

"What  does  he  mean,   Peter  ?  '*' 

"He  has  gone  into  my  study.     Would  you  like * 

He  was  interrupted  by  Watts  calling,  "  Come  in  here, 
Dot,  and  see  how  the  unsociable  old  hermit  bestows  him- 
self." 

So  Leonore  and  Peter  followed  Watts's  lead.  The  room 
into  which  they  went  was  rather  a  curious  one.  It  was  at 
least  twenty-five  feet  square,  having  four  windows,  two 


218  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

looking  out  on  Broadway,  and  two  on  the  side  street.  It 
had  one  other  door  besides  that  by  which  they  had  en- 
tered.  Here  the  ordinary  quality  ended.  Except  for  the 
six  openings  already  noted  and  a  large  fireplace,  the 
walls  were  shelved  from  floor  to  ceiling  (which  was  not 
a  low  one),  with  dusky  oak  shelving.  The  ceiling  was 
panelled  in  dark  oak,  and  the  floor  was  covered  with  a 
smooth  surface  of  the  same  wood.  Yet  though  the 
shelves  were  filled  with  books,  few  could  be  seen,  for  on 
every  upright  of  the  shelving,  were  several  frames  of  oak, 
hinged  as  one  sees  them  in  public  galleries  occasionally, 
and  these  frames  contained  etchings,  engravings,  and  paint- 
ings. Some  were  folded  back  against  the  shelves. 
Others  stood  out  at  right  angles  to  them,  and  showed  that 
the  frames  were  double  ones,  both  sides  containing  some- 
thing. Four  easy-chairs,  three  less  easy  chairs,  and  a 
large  table  desk,  likewise  of  dusky  oak,  were  the  sole  other 
fittings  of  the  room,  if  we  except  two  large  polar  bear 
skins. 

"Oh,"  cried  Leonore,  looking  about,  "  I'm  so  glad  to 
see  this.  People  have  told  me  so  much  about  your 
rooms.  And  no  two  of  them  ever  agreed." 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "It  seems  a  continual  bone  of 
contention  with  my  friends.  They  scold  me  because  I 
shelved  it  to  the  ceiling,  because  I  put  it  in  one-colored 
wood,  because  I  framed  my  pictures  and  engravings 
this  way,  and  because  I  haven't  gone  in  for  rugs,  and 
bric-a-brac,  and  the  usual  furnishings.  At  times  I  have 
really  wondered,  from  trueir  determination  to  change 
things,  whether  it  was  for  them  to  live  in,  or  for  my 
use  ? " 

"  It  is  unusual,"  said  Leonore,  reluctantly,  and  evidently 
selecting  a  word  that  should  not  offend  Peter. 

"You  ought  to  be  hung  for  treating  fine  pictures  so," 
said  Watts. 

"  I  had  to  give  them  those  broad  flat  mats,  because  the 
books  gave  no  background." 

' '  It's — it's — "  Leonore  hesitated.  ' '  It's  not  so  startling, 
after  a  moment." 

"You  see  they  had  to  hang  this  way,  or  go  unhung. 
I  hadn't  wall  space  for  both  pictures  and  books.  And  by 
giving  a  few  frames  a  turn,  occasionally,  I  can  always 
have  fresh  pictures  to  look  at" 


THE  HERMITAGE.  3x9 

"Look  here,  Dot,  here's  a  genuine  Rembrandt's 
'Three  Crosses/"  called  Watts.  "I  didn't  know,  old 
man,  that  you  were  such  a  connoisseur." 

"I'm  not,"  said  Peter.  "I'm  fond  of  such  things,  but 
I  never  should  have  had  taste  or  time  to  gather  these." 

"  Then  how  did  you  get  them  ?  " 

"A  friend  of  mine — a  man  of  exquisite  taste — gathered 
them.  He  lost  his  money,  and  I  bought  them  of  him." 

"That  was  Mr.  Le  Grand?"  asked  Leonore,  ceasing 
her  study  of  the  "Three  Crosses." 

"Yes." 

"  Mrs.  Rivington  told  me  about  it." 

"  It  must  have  been  devilish  hard  for  him  to  part  with 
such  a  collection,"  said  Watts. 

"  He  hasn't  really  parted  with  them.  He  comes  down 
here  constantly,  and  has  a  good  time  over  them.  It  was 
partly  his  scheme  to  arrange  them  this  way." 

"And  are  the  paintings  his,  too,  Peter?" 

Peter  could  have  hugged  her  for  the  way  she  said 
Peter.  "  No,"  he  managed  to  remark.  "  I  bought  some 
of  them,  and  Miss  De  Voe  and  Lispenard  Ogden  the 
others.  People  tell  me  I  spoil  them  by  the  flat  framing,  and 
the  plain,  broad  gold  mats.  But  it  doesn't  spoil  them  to 
me.  I  think  the  mixture  of  gold  mats  and  white  mats 
breaks  the  monotony.  And  the  variation  just  neutralizes 
the  monotone  which  the  rest  of  the  room  has.  But  of 
course  that  is  my  personal  equation." 

"  Then  this  room  is  the  real  taste  of  the  'plain  man/ 
eh  ?  "  inquired  Watts. 

"Really,  papa,  it  is  plain.  Just  as  simple  as  can 
be." 

"Simple!  Yes,  sweet  simplicity!  Three-thousand- 
dollar-etching  simplicity  !  Millet  simplicity  1  Oh,  yes. 
Peter's  a  simple  old  dog." 

"No,  but  the  woodwork  and  the  furniture.  Isn't 
this  an  enticing  chair?  I  must  try  it."  And  Leonore 
almost  dissolved  from  view  in  its  depths.  Peter  has  that 
chair  still.  He  would  probably  knock  the  man  down 
who  offered  to  buy  it. 

It  occurred  to  Peter  that  since  Leonore  was  so  extremely 
near  the  ground,  and  was  leaning  back  so  far,  that  she 
could  hardly  help  but  be  looking  up.  So  he  went  and 
stood  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  and  looked  down  at 


220  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

her.  He  pretended  that  his  hands  were  cold.  Watts 
perhaps  was  right.  Peter  was  not  as  simple  as  people 
thought. 

It  seemed  to  Peter  that  he  had  never  had  so  much  to 
see,  all  at  once,  in  his  life.  There  were  the  occasional 
glimpses  of  the  eyes  (for  Leonore,  in  spite  of  her  posi- 
tion, did  manage  to  cover  the  larger  part  of  them)  not 
one  of  which  must  be  missed.  Then  there  was  her 
mouth.  That  would  have  been  very  restful  to  the  eye  ; 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  distracting  chin  below  it.  Then 
there  were  the  little  feet,  just  sticking  out  from  under- 
neath the  tailor-made  gown,  making  Peter  think  of  Her- 
rick's  famous  lines.  Finally  there  were  those  two  hands  ! 
Leonore  was  very  deliberately  taking  off  her  gloves. 
Peter  had  not  seen  those  hands  ungloved  yet,  and  waited 
almost  breathlessly  for  the  unveiling.  He  decided  that 
he  must  watch  and  shake  hands  at  parting  before  Leonore 
put  those  gloves  on  again. 

"I  say,"  said  Watts,  "how  did  you  ever  manage  to 
get  such  a  place  here  ? " 

"  I  was  a  tenant  for  a  good  many  years  of  the  insur- 
ance company  that  owns  the  building,  and  when  it  came 
to  rebuild,  it  had  the  architect  fit  this  floor  for  me  just  as 
I  wished  it.  So  I  put  our  law-offices  in  front  and  arranged 
my  other  rooms  along  the  side  street.  Would  you  like  to 
see  them  ? "  Peter  asked  this  last  question  very  obviously 
of  Leonore. 

"Very  much." 

So  they  passed  through  the  other  door,  to  a  little  square 
hall,  lighted  by  a  skylight,  with  a  stairway  going  up  to 
the  roof. 

"  I  took  the  upper  floor,  so  as  to  get  good  air  and  the 
view  of  the  city  and  the  bay,  which  is  very  fine,"  Peter 
said.  "And  I  have  a  staircase  to  the  roof,  so  that  in 
good  weather  I  can  go  up  there." 

"I  wondered  what  the  great  firm  was^ioing  up  ten 
stones,"  said  Watts. 

"Ogden  and  Rivington  have  been  very  good  in  yield- 
ing to  my  idiosyncracies.  This  is  my  mealing  closet." 

It  was  a  room  nine  feet  square,  panelled,  ceiled  and 
floored  in  mahogany,  and  the  table  and  six  chairs  were 
made  of  the  same  material. 

"So  this  is  what  the  papers  call  the  'Stirling  political 


THE  HERMITAGE.  221 

incubator?'  It  doesn't  look  like  a  place  for  hatching 
dark  plots,"  said  Watts. 

"Sometimes  I  have  a  little  dinner  here.  Never  more 
than  six,  however,  for  it's  too  small." 

"I  say,  Dot,  doesn't  this  have  a  jolly  cosy  feeling-?' 
Couldn't  one  sit  here  blowy  nights,  with  the  candles  lit, 
eating  nuts  and  telling  stories  ?  It  makes  me  think  of  the 
expression,  '  snug  as  a  bug."3 

"  Miss  Leroy  told  me,  Peter,  what  a  reputation  your 
dinners  had,  and  how  every  one  was  anxious  to  be  in- 
vited just  once/'  said  Leonore. 

"  But  not  a  second  time,  old  man.  You  caught  Dot's 
inference,  I  hope?  Once  is  quite  enough." 

"  Peter,  will  you  invite  me  some  day?" 

"  Would  he  ?  "  Peter  longed  to  tell  her  that  the  place 
and  everything  it  contained,  including  its  owner — Then 
Peter  said  to  himself,  "You  really  don't  know  anything 
about  her.  Stop  your  foolishness."  Still  Peter  knew  that 
— that  foolishness  was  nice.  He  said,  "People  only  care 
for  my  dinners  because  they  are  few  and  far  between,  and 
their  being  way  down  here  in  the  city,  after  business 
hours,  makes  them  something  to  talk  about.  Society 
wants  badly  something  to  talk  about  most  of  the  time.. 
Of  course,  my  friends  are  invited."  Peter  looked  down  at 
Leonore,  and  she  understood,  without  his  saying  so,  that 
she  was  to  be  a  future  guest. 

"  How  do  you  manage  about  the  prog,  chum?" 

"  Mr.  Le  Grand  had  a  man — a  Maryland  darky — whom 
he  turned  over  to  me.  He  looks  after  me  generally,  but 
his  true  forte  is  cooking.  For  oysters  and  fish  and  game 
I  can't  find  his  equal.  And,  as  I  never  attempt  very  elab- 
orate dinners,  he  cooks  and  serves  for  a  party  of  six  in 
very  good  shape.  We  are  not  much  in  haste  down  here 
after  six,  because  it's  so  still  and  quiet.  The  hurry's  gone 
up-town  to  the  social  slaves.  Suppose  you  stay  and  try 
his  skill  at  lunch  to-day?  My  partners  generally  are 
with  me,  and  Jenifer  always  has  something  good  for  them. " 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Watts. 

But  Leonore  said  :  "  No.  We  mustn't  make  a  nuisance 
of  ourselves  the  first  time  we  come."  Peter  and  Watts 
tried  to  persuade  her,  but  she  was  not  persuadable.  Leo- 
nore had  no  intention,  no  matter  how  good  a  time  it 
meant,  of  lunching  sola  with  four  men. 


122  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"I  think  we  must  be  going,"  she  said. 

"You  mustn't  go  without  seeing  the  rest  of  my  quar- 
ters," said  Peter,  hoping  to  prolong  the  visit. 

Leonore  was  complaisant  to  that  extent.  So  they  went 
into  the  pantry,  and  Leonore  proceeded,  apparently,  to 
show  her  absolute  ignorance  of  food  matters  under  the 
pretext  that  she  was  displaying  great  housekeeping  knowl- 
edge. She  told  Peter  that  he  ought  to  keep  his  cham- 
pagne on  ice.  "  That  champagne  will  spoil  if  it  isn't 
kept  on  ice."  She  complained  because  some  bottles  of 
Burgundy  had  dust  on  them.  "  That's  not  merely  un- 
tidy," she  said,  "but  it's  bad  for  the  wine.  It  ought  to 
be  stood  on  end,  so  that  the  sediment  can  settle. "  She 
criticised  the  fact  that  a  brace  of  canvas-backs  were  on 
ice.  "All  your  game  should  be  hung,"  she  said.  She 
put  her  finger  or  her  eyes  into  every  drawer  and  cup- 
board, and  found  nothing  to  praise.  She  was  absolutely 
grave  over  it,  but  before  long  Peter  saw  the  joke  and  en- 
tered into  it.  It  was  wonderful  how  good  some  of  the 
things  that  she  touched  tasted  later. 

Then  they  went  into  Peter's  sleeping-room.  Leonore 
said  it  was  very  ordinary,  but  promptly  found  two  things 
to  interest  her. 

"  Do  you  take  care  of  your  window  flowers  ? " 

"  No.  Mrs.  Costell  comes  down  to  lunch  with  me  once 
a  week,  and  potters  with  them.  She  keeps  all  the  win- 
dows full  of  flowers — perhaps  you  have  noticed  them  in 
the  other  rooms,  as  well  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  liked  them,  but  I  didn't  think  they  could  be 
yours.  They  grow  too  well  for  a  man/' 

"  It  seems  as  if  Mrc0  Costell  had  only  to  look  at  a 
plant,  and  it  breaks  out  blossoming, "  Peter  replied. 

"  What  a  nice  speech/'  said  Leonore. 

"  It's  on  a  nice  subject/'  Peter  told  her.  "  When  you 
have  that,  it's  very  easy  to  make  a  nice  speech." 

' '  I  want  to  meet  Mrs.  Costell.     I've  heard  all  about  her. " 

The  second  point  of  interest  concerned  the  contents  of 
what  had  evidently  been  planned  as  an  umbrella-stand. 

"Why  do  you  have  three  swords  ?  "  she  asked,  taking 
the  handsomest  from  its  resting  place. 

"  So  that  I  can  kill  more  people." 

1 '  Why,  Dot,  you  ought  to  know  that  an  officer  wants 
a  service  sword  and  a  dress-sword." 


THE  HERMITAGE. 


223 


"  But  these  are  all  dress-swords.  I'm  afraid  you  are 
rery  proud  of  your  majorship." 

Peter  only  smiled  a  reply  down  at  her. 

"  Yes/'  said  Leonore,  "I  have  found  out  your  weak- 
ness at  last.  You  like  gold  lace  and  fixings." 

Still  Peter  only  smiled. 

"  This  sword  is  presented  to  Captain  Peter  Stirling  in 
recognition  of  his  gallant  conduct  at  Hornellsville,  July 
25,  1877,"  Leonore  read  on  the  scabbard.  "What  did  you 
do  at  Hornellsville?" 

"  Various  things/' 

"  But  what  did  you  do  to  get  the  sword?  " 

"  My  duty  1" 

-Tell  me?" 

"  I  thought  you  knew  all  about  me/' 

"  I  don't  know  this." 

Peter  only  smiled  at  her. 

"  Tell  me.     If  you  don't,  somebody  else  will.     Please/' 

"  Why,  Dot,  these  are  all  presentation  swords." 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter  ;  "and  so  gorgeous  that  I  don't  dare 
use  them.  I  keep  the  swords  I  wear  at  the  armory." 

"  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  what  you  did  to  get  them? " 

"  That  one  was  given  me  by  my  company  when  I  was 
made  captain.  That  was  subscribed  for  by  some  friends. 
The  one  you  have  was  given  me  by  a  railroad." 

"For  what?" 

"  For  doing  my  duty." 

"  Come,  papa.     We'll  go  home/' 

Peter  surrendered.  "  There  were  some  substitutes  for 
strikers  in  freight  cars  that  were  fitted  up  with  bunks. 
The  strikers  fastened  the  doors  on  them,  and  pushed  them 
into  a  car-shed." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  We  rolled  the  cars  back." 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  much.  Nothing  to  give  a 
sword  for.  Now,  have  you  anything  more  to  show 
us?" 

"  No.  I  have  a  spare  room,  and  Jenifer  has  a  kitchen 
and  sleeping  place  beyond,  but  they  are  not  worth  show- 
ing/' 

They  went  out  into  the  little  square  hall,  and  so  into 
the  study.  Leonore  began  unfolding  her  gloves. 

"I've  had  a  very  nice  time,"  she  said.      "I   think  I 


224  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

shall  come  again  very  often.  I  like  down-town  New 
York. "  Leonore  was  making  her  first  trip  to  it,  so  that 
she  spoke  from  vast  knowledge. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  pleasant  it  has  been  to  me.  It 
isn't  often  that  such  sunshine  gets  in  here/'  said  Peter. 

"Then  you  do  prefer  sunshine  to  grimy  old  law  books  ?" 
inquired  Leonore,  smiling  demurely. 

"Some  sunshine,"  said  Peter,  meaningly. 

"Wherever  there  has  been  sunshine  there  ought  to  be 
lots  of  flowers.  I  have  a  good  mind — yes,  I  will — leave 
you  these  violets."  Leonore  took  a  little  bunch  that  she 
had  worn  near  her  throat  and  put  them  and  her  hand  in 
Peter's.  And  she  hadn't  put  her  glove  on  yet  !  Then 
she  put  her  gloves  on,  and  Peter  shook  hands.  Then  he 
remembered  that  he  ought  to  see  them  to  the  elevator,  so 
he  took  them  out — and  shook  hands  again.  After  that  he 
concluded  it  was  his  duty  to  see  them  to  the  carriage — 
and  he  shook  hands  again. 

Peter  was  not  an  experienced  hand,  but  he  was  doing 
very  well. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
THE  DUDE. 

JUST  as  Peter  came  back  to  his  office,  his  lunch  was  an- 
nounced. 

"  What  makes  you  look  so  happy  ?  "  asked  Ray. 

"Being  so,"  said  Peter,  calmly. 

"  What  a  funny  old  chap  he  is  ?  "  Ray  remarked  to  Og° 
den,  as  they  went  back  to  work.  "  He  brought  me  his 
opinion,  just  after  lunch,  in  the  Hall-Seelye  case.  I  sup- 
pose he  had  been  grubbing  all  the  morning  over  those 
awful  figures,  and  a  tougher  or  dryer  job,  you  couldn't 
make.  Yet  he  came  in  to  lunch  looking  as  if  he  was  walk- 
ing on  air. " 

When  Peter  returned  to  his  office,  he  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  stop  work  and  think  for  a  bit.  He  wanted  to 
hold  those  violets,  and  smell  them  now  and  then.  He 
wished  to  read  that  letter  over  again.  He  longed  to 
have  a  look  at  that  bit  of  ribbon  and  gold.  But  he  re- 
sisted temptation.  He  said  :  ' '  Peter  Stirling,  go  to  work,* 


THE  DUDE. 


22$ 


So  all  the  treasures  were  put  in  a  drawer  of  his  study 
table,  and  Peter  sat  down  at  his  office  desk.  First,  after 
tearing  up  his  note  to  Watts,  he  wrote  another,  as  follows  : 

WATTS  : 

You  can  understand  why  I  did  not  call  last  night,  or  bind  myself  as 
to  the  future.  I  shall  hope  to  receive  an  invitation  to  call  from  Mrs. 
D'Alloi.  How,  I  must  leave  to  you;  but  you  owe  me  this  much,  and  it 
is  the  only  payment  I  ask  of  you.  Otherwise  let  us  bury  all  that  has 
occurred  since  our  college  days,  forever. 

PETER. 

Then  he  ground  at  the  law  till  six,  when  he  swung 
his  clubs  and  dumb-bells  for  ten  minutes  ;  took  a  shower  ; 
dressed  himself,  and  dined.  Then  he  went  into  his  study, 
and  opened  a  drawer.  Did  he  find  therein  a  box  of 
cigars,  or  a  bunch  of  violets,  gold-piece,  ribbon  and  sheet 
of  paper?  One  thing  is  certain.  Peter  passed  another 
evening  without  reading  or  working.  And  two  such 
idle  evenings  could  not  be  shown  in  another  week  of  his 
life  for  the  last  twenty  years. 

The  next  day  Peter  was  considerably  nearer  earth. 
Not  that  he  didn't  think  those  eyes  just  as  lovely,  and 
had  he  been  thrown  within  their  radius,  he  would 
probably  have  been  as  strongly  influenced  as  ever.  But 
he  was  not  thrown  within  their  influence,  and  so  his 
strong  nature  and  common  sense  reasserted  themselves. 
He  took  his  coffee,  his  early  morning  ride,  and  then  his 
work,  in  their  due  order.  After  dinner,  that  evening,  he 
only  smoked  one  cigar.  When  he  had  done  that,  he  re- 
marked to  himself — apropos  of  the  cigars,  presumably — 
' '  Peter,  keep  to  your  work.  Don't  bum  yourself  again. " 
Then  his  face  grew  very  firm,  and  he  read  a  frivolous 
book  entitled  :  ' '  Neun  atiologische  und  prophylactische 

Satze uber  die  Choleraepidemien  in  Ostindien,"  till 

nearly  one  o'clock. 

The  following  day  was  Sunday.  Peter  went  to  church, 
and  in  the  afternoon  rode  out  to  Westchester  to  pass 
the  evening  there  with  Mrs.  Costell.  Peter  thought  his 
balance  was  quite  recovered.  Other  men  have  said  the 
same  thing.  The  fact  that  they  said  so,  proved  that  the)r 
were  by  no  means  sure  of  themselves. 

This  was  shown  very  markedly  on  Monday  in   Peter's 
case,  for  after  lunch  he  did  not  work  as  steadily  as  he 
had  done  in  trie  morning  hours.     He  was  restless.     Twice: 
IS 


$26  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

he  pressed  his  lips,  and  started  in  to  work  very,  very 
hard — and  did  it  for  a  time.  Then  the  restlessness  v/ould 
come  on  again.  Presently  he  took  to  looking  at  his 
watch.  Then  he  would  snap  it  to,  and  go  to  work  again, 
with  a  great  determination  in  his  face,  only  to  look  at  the 
watch  again  before  long.  Finally  he  touched  his  bell. 

"Jenifer,"  he  said,  "I  wish  you  would  rub  off  my 
spurs,  and  clean  up  my  riding  trousers/' 

"For  lohd,  sar,  I  done  dat  dis  day  yesserday." 

"Never  mind,  then,"  said  Peter.  "  Tell  Curzon  to  ring 
me  up  a  hansom." 

When  Peter  rode  into  the  park  he  did  not  vacillate. 
He  put  his  horse  at  a  sharp  canter,  and  started  round  the 
path.  But  he  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  suddenly 
checked  his  horse,  and  reined  him  up  with  a  couple  of 
riders.  "I've  been  looking  for  you,"  he  said  frankly. 
Peter  had  not  ceased  to  be  straightforward. 

"  Hello  !     This  is  nice,"  said  Watts. 

"Don't  you  think  it's  about  time?"  said  Leonore. 
Leonore  had  her  own  opinion  of  what  friendship  consisted. 
She  was  not  angry  with  Peter — not  at  all.  But  she  did 
not  look  at  him. 

Peter  had  drawn  his  horse  up  to  the  side  on  which 
Leonore  was  riding.  "That  is  just  what  I  thought,"  he 
said  deliberately,  "  and  that's  why  I'm  here  now. " 

"How  long  ago  did  that  occur  to  you,  please?"  said 
Leonore,  with  dignity. 

"  About  the  time  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  ride 
here  regularly  afternoons." 

"  Don't  you  ? "  Leonore  was  mollifying. 

"No.  I  like  the  earlv  morning,  when  there  are  fewer 
people." 

"You  unsociable  old  hermit,"  exclaimed  Watts. 

"  But  now  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

When  Leonore  said  those  two  words  Peter  had  not  yet 
had  a  sight  of  those  eyes.  And  he  was  getting  desperately 
anxious  to  see  them.  So  he  replied:  "Now  I  shall  ride 
in  the  afternoons." 

He  was  rewarded  by  a  look.  The  sweetest  kind  of  a 
look.  "Now,  that  is  very  nice,  Peter,"  said  Leonore. 
"  If  we  see  each  other  every  day  in  the  Park,  we  can  tell 
each  other  everything  that  we  are  doing  or  thinking 
about  So  we  will  be  very  good  friends  for  sure." 


THE  DUDE. 


227 


Leonore  spoke  and  looked  as  if  this  was  the  pleasantest 
of  possibilities,  and  Peter  was  certain  it  was. 

"I  say,  Peter,"  said  Watts.  "What  a  tremendous 
dude  we  have  come  out.  I  wanted  to  joke  you  on  it  the 
first  time  I  saw  you,  but  this  afternoon  it's  positively 
appalling.  I  would  have  taken  my  Bible  oath  that  it  was 
the  last  thing  old  Peter  would  become.  Just  look  at 
him,  Dot.  Doesn't  he  fill  you  with  'wonder,  awe  and 
praise  ? ' ' 

Leonore  looked  at  Peter  a  little  shyly,  but  she  said 
frankly  : 

"I've  wondered  about  that,  Peter.  People  told  me 
you  were  a  man  absolutely  without  style." 

Peter  smiled.  "  Do  you  remember  what  Friar  Bacon's 
brass  head  said  ?  " 

"Time  is  :  Time  was  :  Time  will  never  be  again?" 
asked  Leonore. 

"That  fits  my  lack  of  style,  I  think." 

"  Pell  and  Ogden,  and  the  rest  of  them,  have  made  you 
what  I  never  could,  dig  at  you  as  I  would.  So  you've 
yielded  to  the  demands  of  your  toney  friends  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  tried  to  dress  correctly  for  my  up-town 
friends,  when  I  was  with  them.  But  it  was  not  they  who 
made  me  careful,  though  they  helped  me  to  find  a  good 
tailor,  when  I  decided  that  I  must  dress  better. " 

"Then  it  was  the  big  law  practice,  eh  ?  Must  keep  up 
appearances  ? " 

"I  fancy  my  dressing  would  no  more  affect  my  prac- 
tice, than  does  the  furnishing  of  my  office." 

"Then  who  is  she  ?     Out  with  it,  you  sly  dog." 

"  Of  course  I  shan't  tell  you  that." 

"  Peter,  will  you  tell  me? "  asked  Leonore. 

Peter  smiled  into  the  frank  eyes.      "Who  she  is  ?  " 

"No.     Why  you  dress  so  nicely.     Please  ?  " 

"You'll  laugh  when  I  tell  you  it  is  my  ward." 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  laughed  Watts.  "That's  too  thin. 
Come  off  that  roof.  Unless  you're  guardian  of  some 
bewitching  girl  ? " 

"Your  ward,  Peter?  " 

"Yes.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  make  you  under- 
stand it.  I  didn't  at  first.  You  see  I  became  associated 
with  the  ward,  in  people's  minds,  after  I  had  been  in 
politics  for  a  few  years.  So  I  was  sometimes  put  in 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

positions  to  a  certain  extent  representative  of  it.  I  never 
thought  much  how  I  dressed,  and  it  seems  that  some- 
times at  public  meetings,  and  parades,  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  I  wasn't  dressed  quite  as  well  as  the  other  men. 
So  when  the  people  of  my  ward,  who  were  present,  were 
asked  to  point  me  out  to  strangers,  they  were  mortified 
about  the  way  I  looked.  It  seemed  to  reflect  on  the 
ward.  The  first  inkling  I  had  of  it  was  after  one  of  these 
parades,  in  which,  without  thinking,  I  had  worn  a  soft 
hat.  I  was  the  only  man  who  did  not  wear  a  silk  one, 
and  my  ward  felt  very  badly  about  it.  So  they  made  up 
a  purse,  and  came  to  me  to  ask  me  to  buy  a  new  suit  and 
silk  hat  and  gloves.  Of  course  that  set  me  asking  ques- 
tions, and  though  they  didn't  want  to  hurt  my  feelings, 
I  wormed  enough  out  of  them  to  learn  how  they  felt. 
Since  then  I've  spent  a  good  deal  of  money  on  tailors, 
and  dress  very  carefully." 

"  Good  for  '  de  sixt '  !  Hurrah  for  the  unwashed  democ- 
racy, where  one  man's  as  good  as  another  !  So  a  'Mick' 
ward  wants  its  great  man  to  put  on  all  the  frills  ?  I  tell  you, 
chum,  we  may  talk  about  equality,  but  the  lower  classes 
can't  but  admire  and  worship  the  tinsel  and  flummery  of 
aristocracy. " 

"You  are  mistaken.  They  may  like  to  see  brilliant 
sights.  Soldiers,  ball-rooms  or  the  like,  and  who  does 
not  ?  Beauty  is  aesthetic,  not  aristocratic.  But  they 
judge  people  less  by  their  dress  or  money  than  is  usually 
•supposed.  Far  less  than  the  people  up-town  do.  They 
wanted  me  to  dress  better,  because  it  was  appropriate. 
But  let  a  man  in  the  ward  try  to  dress  beyond  his  station, 
and  he'd  be  jeered  out  of  it,  or  the  ward,  if  nothing  worse 
happened. " 

"Oh,  of  course  they'd  hoot  at  their  own  kind,"  said 
Watts.  "The  hardest  thing  to  forgive  in  this  world  is 
your  equal's  success.  But  they  wouldn't  say  anything  to 
one  of  us." 

"If  you,  or  Pell,  or  Ogden  should  go  into  Blunkers's 
place  in  my  ward,  this  evening,  dressed  as  you  are,  or 
better,  you  probably  would  be  told  to  get  out.  I  don't 
believe  you  could  get  a  drink.  And  you  would  stand  a 
ehance  of  pretty  rough  usage.  Last  week  I  went  right 
from  a  dinner  to  Blunkers's  to  say  a  word  to  him.  I  was 
in  evening  dress,  newcastle,  and  crush  hat — even  a  bunch 


THE  DUDE.  229 

of  lilies  of  the  valley — yet  every  man  there  was  willing 
to  shake  hands  and  have  me  sit  down  and  stay.  Blunkers 
couldn't  have  been  dressed  so,  because  it  didn't  belong  to 
him.  For  the  same  reason,  you  would  have  no  business 
in  Blunkers's  place,  because  you  don't  belong  there.  But 
the  men  know  I  dressed  for  a  reason,  and  came  to  the 
saloon  for  a  reason.  I  wasn't  putting  on  airs.  I  wasn't 
intruding  my  wealth  on  them." 

"Look  here,  chum,  will  you  take  me  into  Blunkers's 
place  some  night,  and  let  me  hear  you  powwow  the 
' b'ys  ? '  I  should  like  to  see  how  you  do  it." 

' 'Yes, "Peter  said  deliberately,  "if  some  night  you'll 
let  me  bring  Blunkers  up  to  watch  one  of  your  formal  din- 
ners. He  would  enjoy  the  sight,  I'm  sure." 

Leonore  cocked  her  little  nose  up  in  the  air,  and  laughed 
merrily. 

"  Oh,  but  that's  very  different,"  said  Watts. 

"It's  just  as  different  as  the  two  men  with  the  tooth- 
ache," said  Peter.  "They  both  met  at  the  dentist's,  who 
it  seems  had  only  time  to  pull  one  tooth.  The  question 
arose  as  to  which  it  should  be.  '  I'm  so  brave/  said  one, 
'  that  I  can  wait  till  to-morrow/  'I'm  such  a  coward/ 
said  the  other,  'that  I  don't  dare  have  it  done  to-day.'" 

"Haven't  you  ever  taken  people  to  those  places,  Peter? " 
asked  Leonore. 

"No.  I've  always  refused.  It's  a  society  fad  now  to 
have  what  are  called  'slumming  parties/  and  of  course 
I've  been  asked  to  help.  It  makes  my  blood  tingle  when 
I  hear  them  talk  over  the  '  fun  '  as  they  call  it.  They 
get  detectives  to  protect  them,  and  then  go  through  the 
tenements — the  homes  of  the  poor — and  pry  into  their 
privacy  and  poverty,  just  out  of  curiosity.  Then  they  go 
home  and  over  a  chafing  dish  of  lobster  or  terrapin,  and 
champagne,  they  laugh  at  the  funny  things  they  saw.  If 
the  poor  could  get  detectives,  and  look  in  on  the  luxury 
and  comfort  of  the  rich,  they  wouldn't  see  much  fun  in  it, 
and  there's  less  fun  in  a  down-town  tenement  than  there 
is  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  palace.  I  heard  a  girl  tell  the  other 
night  about  breaking  in  on  a  wake  by  chance.  '  Weren't 
we  lucky  ? '  she  said.  '  It  was  so  funny  to  see  the  poor 
people  weeping  and  drinking  whisky  at  the  same  time. 
Isn't  it  heartless  ? '  Yet  the  dead — perhaps  the  bread-win- 
ner of  the  family,  fallen  in  the  struggle — perhaps  the  last 


230  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

little  comer,  not  strong  enough  to  fight  this  earth's  battle 
— must  have  lain  there  in  plain  view  of  that  girl.  Who 
was  the  most  heartless  ?  The  family  and  friends  who  had 
gathered  over  that  body,  according  to  their  customs,  or 
the  party  who  looked  in  on  them  and  laughed  ?  "  Peter 
had  forgotten  where  he  was,  or  to  whom  he  was  talking, 

Leonore  had  listened  breathlessly.  But  the  moment  he 
ceased  speaking,  she  bowed  her  head  and  began  to  sob. 
Peter  came  down  from  his  indignant  tirade  like  a  flash. 
"Miss  D'Alloi,"  he  cried,  "forgive  me.  I  forgot.  Don't 
cry  so/'  Peter  was  pleading  in  an  anxious  voice.  He 
felt  as  if  he  had  committed  murder. 

"There,  there,  Dot.  Don't  cry.  It's  nothing  to  cry 
about." 

Miss  D'Alloi  was  crying  and  endeavoring  at  the  same 
time  to  solve  the  most  intricate  puzzle  ever  yet  propounded 
by  man  or  woman — that  is,  to  find  a  woman's  pocket. 
She  complicated  things  even  more  by  trying  to  talk.  ' '  I 
— I — know  I'm  ver — ver — very  fooooooolish,"  she  man- 
aged to  get  out,  however  much  she  failed  in  a  similar  result 
with  her  pocket-handkerchief. 

"Since  I  caused  the  tears,  you  must  let  me  stop  them," 
said  Peter.  He  had  produced  his  own  handkerchief,  and 
was  made  happy  by  seeing  Leonore  bury  her  face  in  it, 
and  re-appear  not  quite  so  woe-begone. 

* '  I — only —  didn't — know  — you  — could  — talk  — like  — 
like  that/'  explained  Leonore. 

' '  Let  this  be  a  lesson  for  you, "  said  Watts.  ' '  Don't  come 
any  more  of  your  jury-pathos  on  my  little  girl." 

' '  Papa  !  You — I — Peter,  I'm  so  glad  you  told  me — I'll 
never  go  to  one. " 

Watts  laughed.  "  Now  I  know  why  you  charm  all  the 
women  whom  I  hear  talking  about  you.  I  tell  you,  when 
you  rear  your  head  up  like  that,  and  your  eyes  blaze  so, 
and  you  put  that  husk  in  your  voice,  I  don't  wonder  you 
fetch  them.  By  George,  you  were  really  splendid  to  look 
at." 

That  was  the  reason  why  Leonore  had  not  cried  till  Peter 
had  finished  his  speech.  We  don't  charge  women  with 
crying  whenever  they  wish,  but  we  are  sure  that  they 
never  cry  when  they  have  anything  better  to  do. 


931 


CHAPTER  XL. 
OPINIONS. 

WHEN  the  ride  was  ended,  Leonore  was  sent  home  in 
the  carriage,  Watts  saying  he  would  go  with  Peter  to  his 
club.  As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  cab,  he  said : 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  your  letter." 

"Well?" 

"  Everything's  going  as  well  as  can  be  expected.  Of 
course  the  little  woman's  scandalized  over  your  supposed 
iniquity,  but  I'm  working  the  heavy  sentimental  *  saved- 
our-little-girl's-life '  business  for  all  it's  worth.  I  had  her 
crying* last  night  on  my  shoulder  over  it,  and  no  woman 
can  do*  that  and  be  obstinate  long.  She'll  come  round 
before  a  great  while." 

Peter  winced.  He  almost  felt  like  calling  Watts  off  from 
the  endeavor.  But  he  thought  of  Leonore.  He  must  see 
her — just  to  prove  to  himself  that  she  was  not  for  him, 
be  it  understood — and  how  could  he  see  enough  of  her  to 
do  that — for  Peter  recognized  that  it  would  take  a  good 
deal  of  that  charming  face  and  figure  and  manner  to  pall 
on  him — if  he  was  excluded  from  her  home  ?  So  he  jus- 
tified the  continuance  of  the  attempt  by  saying  to  himself : 
"She  only  excludes  me  because  of  something  of  which  1 
am  guiltless,  and  I've  saved  her  from  far  greater  suffering 
than  my  presence  can  ever  give  her.  I  have  earned  the 
privilege  if  ever  man  earned  it."  Most  people  can  prove 
to  themselves  what  they  wish  to  prove.  The  successful 
orator  is  always  the  man  who  imposes  his  frame  of  mind 
on  his  audience.  We  call  it  "saying  what  the  people 
want  said."  But  many  of  the  greatest  speakers  first  sug- 
gest an  idea  to  their  listeners,  and  when  they  say  it  in  plain 
English,  a  moment  later,  the  audience  say,  mentally, 
"That's  just  what  we  thought  a  moment  ago,"  and  are' 
convinced  that  the  speaker  is  right. 

Peter  remained  silent,  and  Watts  continued:  "We 
get  into  our  own  house  to-morrow,  and  give  Leonore  a 


232  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

birthday  dinner  Tuesday   week   as   a   combined  house* 
warming  and  celebration.     Save  that  day,   for  I'm  deter 
mined  you  shall  be  asked.     Only  the  invitation  may  come 
a  little  late.     You  won't  mind  that  ?  " 

"No.  But  don't  send  me  too  many  of  these  formal 
things.  I  keep  out  of  them  as  much  as  I  can.  I'm 
not  a  society  man  and  probably  won't  fit  in  with  your 
friends." 

"  I  should  know  you  were  not  de  societi  by  that  single 
speech.  If  there's  one  thing  easy  to  talk  to,  or  fit  in 
with,  it's  a  society  man  or  woman.  It's  their  business  to 
be  chatty  and  pleasant,  and  they  would  be  polite  and  en- 
tertaining to  a  kangaroo,  if  they  found  one  next  them  at 
dinner.  That's  what  society  is  for.  We  are  the  yolk  of 
the  egg,  which  holds  and  blends  all  the  discordant,  un- 
trained elements.  The  oil,  vinegar,  salt,  and  mustard. 
We  don't  add  much  flavor  to  life,  but  people  wouldn't 
mix  without  us. " 

"I  know,"  said  Peter,  "if  you  want  to  talk  petty  per- 
^onalities  and  trivialities,  that  it's  easy  enough  to  get 
through  endless  hours  of  time.  But  I  have  other  things 
to  do." 

"  Exactly.  But  we  have  a  purpose,  too.  You  mustn't 
think  society  is  all  frivolity.  It's  one  of  the  hardest 
working  professions." 

"  And  the  most  brainless." 

"No.  Don't  you  see,  that  society  is  like  any  other 
kind  of  work,  and  that  the  people  who  will  centre  theii 
whole  life  on  it  must  be  the  leaders  of  it  ?  To  you,  the 
spending  hours  over  a  new  entrbe,  or  over  a  cotillion 
figure,  seems  rubbish,  but  it's  the  exact  equivalent  of  your 
spending  hours  over  who  shall  be  nominated  for  a  certain 
office.  Because  you  are  willing  to  do  that,  you  are 
one  of  the  ' '  big  four. "  Because  we  are  willing  to  do 
our  task,  we  differentiate  into  the  "four  hundred."  You 
mustn't  think  society  doesn't  grind  up  brain-tissue.  But 
we  use  so  much  in  running  it,  that  we  don't  have  enough 
for  other  subjects,  and  so  you  think  we  are  stupid.  I 
remember  a  woman  once  saying  she  didn't  like  conver- 
sazioni, '  because  they  are  really  brain-parties,  and  there  is 
never  enough  to  go  round,  and  give  a  second  help.'  Any 
way,  how  can  you  expect  society  to  talk  anything  but 
society,  when  men  like  yourself  stay  away  from  it" 


OPINIONS. 


233 


"  I  don't  ask  you  to  talk  anything  else.  But  let  me 
keep  out  of  it." 

"'He's  not  the  man  for  Galway',"  hummed  Watts. 
4 'He  prefers  talking  to  'heelers/ and  'b'ys/and  'toughs/ 
and  other  clever,  intellectual  men." 

"  I  like  to  talk  to  any  one  who  is  working  with  a  pur- 
pose in  life." 

"I  say,  Peter,  what  do  those  fellows  really  say  of  us?" 

"  I  can  best  describe  it  by  something  Miss  De  Voe  once 
said.  We  were  at  a  dinner  together,  where  there  was  a 
Chicago  man  who  became  irritated  at  one  or  two  bits 
of  ignorance  displayed  by  some  of  the  other  guests  over 
the  size  and  prominence  of  his  abiding  place.  Finally  he 
said  :  '  Why,  look  here,  you  people  are  so  ignorant  of 
my  city,  that  you  don't  even  know  how  to  pronounce  its 
name/  He  turned  to  Miss  De  Voe  and  said,  'We  say 
Chicawgo.  Now,  how  do  you  pronounce  it  in  New  York  ? ' 
Miss  De  Voe  put  on  that  quiet,  crushing  manner  she  has 
when  a  man  displeases  her,  and  said,  'We  never  pro- 
nounce it  in  New  York/" 

"Good  for  our  Dutch-Huguenot  stock!  I  tell  you, 
Peter,  blood  does  tell." 

"It  wasn't  a  speech  I  should  care  to  make,  because  it 
did  no  good,  and  could  only  mortify.  But  it  does  de- 
scribe the  position  of  the  lower  wards  of  New  York 
towards  society.  I've  been  working  in  them  for  nearly 
sixteen  years,  and  I've  never  even  heard  the  subject  men- 
tioned." 

"But  I  thought  the  anarchists  and  socialists  were  al- 
ways taking  a  whack  at  us  ?  " 

"They  cry  out  against  over-rich  men — not  against 
society.  Don't  confuse  the  constituents  with  the  com- 
pound. Citric  acid  is  a  deadly  poison,  but  weakened 
down  with  water  and  sugar,  it  is  only  lemonade.  They 
growl  at  the  poison,  not  at  the  water  and  sugar.  Before 
there  can  be  hate,  there  must  be  strength." 

The  next  day  Peter  turned  up  in  the  park  about  four, 
and  had  a  ride — with  Watts.  The  day  after  that,  he  was 
there  a  little  earlier,  and  had  a  ride — with  the  groom. 
The  day  following  he  had  another  ride — with  the 
groom.  Peter  thought  they  were  very  wonderful  rides. 
Some  one  told  him  a  great  many  interesting  things. 
About  some  one's  European  life,  some  one's  thoughts,  some 


234 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


one's  hopes,  and  some  one's  feelings.  Some  one  really 
wanted  a  friend  to  pour  it  all  out  to,  and  Peter  listened 
well,  and  encouraged  well. 

"  He  doesn't  laugh  at  me,  as  papa  does,"  some  one  told 
herself,  "and  so  it's  much  easier  to  tell  him.  And  he 
shows  that  he  really  is  interested.  Oh,  I  always  said  he 
and  I  should  be  good  friends,  and  we  are  going  to  be." 

This  put  some  one  in  a  very  nice  frame  of  mind,  and 
Peter  thought  he  had  never  met  such  a  wonderful  com- 
bination of  frankness,  of  confidence,  and  yet  of  a  certain 
girlish  shyness  and  timidity.  Some  one  would  tell  him 
something,  and  then  appeal  to  him,  if  he  didn't  think 
that  was  so  ?  Peter  generally  thought  it  was.  Some 
one  did  not  drop  her  little  touch  of  coquetry,  for  that  was 
ingrain,  as  it  is  in  most  pretty  girls.  But  it  was  the  most 
harmless  kind  of  coquetry  imaginable.  Some  one  was  not 
thinking  at  all  of  winning  men's  hearts.  That  might  come 
later.  At  present  all  she  wanted  was  that  they  should 
think  her  pretty,  and  delightful,  so  that — that  they  should 
want  to  be  friends. 

When  Peter  joined  Watts  and  Leonore,  however,  on  the 
fourth  day,  there  was  a  noticeable  change  in  Leonore's 
manner  to  him.  He  did  not  get  any  welcome  except  a 
formal  "Good-afternoon," and  for  ten  minutes  Watts  and 
he  had  to  sustain  the  conversation  by  firing  remarks  at  each 
other  past  a  very  silent  intermediary.  Peter  had  no 
idea  what  was  wrong,  but  when  he  found  that  she  did  not 
mollify  at  the  end  of  that  time,  he  said  to  her  : 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"Matter  with  what?"  asked  Leonore,  calmly. 

"/Withyou." 

"Nothing." 

"I  shan't  take  that  for  an  answer.  Remember,  we 
have  sworn  to  be  friends." 

' '  Friends  come  to  see  each  other. " 

Peter  felt  relieved,  and  smiled.  "They  do,"  he  said, 
"when  they  can." 

"No,  they  don't,  sometimes,"  said  Leonore  severely. 
Then  she  unbent  a  little.  "Why  haven't  you  been  to 
see  us  ?  You've  had  a  full  week. " 

"Yes,"  said  Peter,    "  I  have  had  a  very  full  week." 

"  Are  you  going  to  call  on  us,  Mr.  Stirling  ?  " 

"To  whom  are  you  talking? " 


OPINIONS.  235 

"To  you." 

"  My  name's  Peter." 

"  That  depends.     Are  you  going  to  call  on  us  ?  " 

"That  is  my  hope  and  wish." 

Leon  ore  unbent  a  little  more.  "  If  you  are,"  she  said, 
"I  wish  you  would  do  it  soon,  because  mamma  said 
to-day  she  ihought  of  asking  you  to  my  birthday  dinner 
next  Tuesday,  but  I  said  you  oughtn't  to  be  asked  till  you 
had  called." 

"  Did  you  know  that  bribery  is  unlawful  ?  " 

"Are  you  going  to  call  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  am." 

"That's  better.     When?" 

"What  evening  are  you  to  be  at  home?" 

"To-morrow,"  said  Leonore,  beginning  to  curl  up  the 
corners  of  her  mouth. 

4 'Well,"  said  Peter,  "I  wish  you  had  said  this  evening, 
because  that's  nearer,  but  to-morrow  isn't  so  far  away." 

"That's  right.     Now  we'll  be  friends  again." 

"I  hope  so.7' 

''Are  you  willing  to  be  good  friends — not  make  be- 
lieve, or  half  friends,  but — real  friends  ?  " 

1 '  Absolutely." 

"Don't  you  think  friends  should  tell  each  other  every- 
thing ? " 

"Yes."  Peter  was  quite  willing,  even  anxious,  that 
Leonore  should  tell  him  everything. 

"You  are  quite  sure  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,"  said  Leonore,  "tell  me  about  the  way  you 
got  that  sword." 

Watts  laughed.  "She's  been  asking  every  one  she's 
met  about  that.  Do  tell  her,  just  for  my  sake." 

"  I've  told  you  already." 

"Not  the  way  I  want  it.  I  know  you  didn't  try  to 
make  it  interesting.  Some  of  the  people  remembered 
there  was  something  very  fine,  but  I  haven't  found  any- 
body yet  who  could  really  tell  it  to  me.  Please  tell 
about  it  nicely,  Peter."  Leonore  was  looking  at  Peter 
with  the  most  pleading  of  looks. 

"It  was  during  the  great  railroad  strike.  The  Erie 
had  brought  some  men  up  from  New  York  to  fill  the 
strikers'  places.  The  new  hands  were  lodged  in  freight 


236  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

cars,  when  off  work,  for  it  wasn't  safe  for  them  to  pass 
outside  the  guard  lines  of  soldiers.  Some  of  the  strikers 
applied  for  work,  and  were  re-instated.  They  only  did 
it  to  get  inside  our  lines.  At  night,  when  the  substitutes 
in  the  cars  were  fast  asleep,  tired  out  with  the  double 
Work  they  had  done,  the  strikers  locked  the  car-doors. 
They  pulled  the  two  cars  into  a  shed  full  of  freight,  broke 
Open  a  petroleum  tank,  and  with  it  wet  the  cars  and  some 
others  loaded  with  jute.  They  set  fire  to  the  cars  and 
barricaded  the  shed  doors.  Of  course  we  didn't  know 
till  the  flames  burst  through  the  roof  of  the  shed,  when  by 
the  light,  one  of  the  superintendents  found  the  bunk  cars 
gone.  The  fire-department  was  useless,  for  the  strikers 
two  days  before,  had  cut  all  the  hose.  So  we  were 
ordered  up  to  get  the  cars  out.  Some  strikers  had  con- 
cealed themselves  in  buildings  where  they  could  overlook 
the  shed,  and  while  we  were  working  at  the  door,  they  kept 
firing  on  us.  We  were  in  the  light  of  the  blazing  shed, 
and  they  were  in  the  dark,  which  gave  them  a  big  ad- 
vantage over  us,  and  we  couldn't  spare  the  time  to  attend 
to  them.  We  tore  up  some  rails  and  with  them  smashed 
in  the  door.  The  men  in  the  cars  were  screaming-,  so  we 
knew  which  to  take,  and  fortunately  they  were  the  near- 
est to  the  door.  We  took  our  muskets — for  the  frames  of 
the  cars  were  blazing,  and  the  metal  part  too  hot  to  touch 
— and  fixing  bayonets,  drove  them  into  the  woodwork 
and  so  pushed  the  cars  out.  When  we  were  outside,  we 
used  the  rails  again,  to  smash  an  opening  in  the  ends 
of  the  cars  which  were  burning  the  least.  We  got  the 
men  out  unharmed,  but  pretty  badly  frightened." 

"And  were  you  not  hurt  ? " 

"  We  had  eight  wounded  and  a  good  many  badly 
burned." 

' '  And  you?" 

"  I  had  my  share  of  the  burn." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  did — not  what 
the  others  did." 

Peter  would  have  told  her  anything  while  she  looked 
like  that  at  him. 

"  I  was  in  command  at  that  point.  I  merely  directed 
things,  except  taking  up  the  rails.  I  happened  to  know 
how  to  get  a  rail  up  quickly,  without  waiting  to  unscrew 
the  bolts,  I  had  read  it,  years  before,  in  a  book  on  rail- 


OPINIONS.  237 

road  construction.  I  didn't  think  that  paragraph  would 
ever  help  me  to  save  forty  lives — for  five  minutes'  delay 
would  have  been  fatal.  The  inside  of  the  shed  was  one 
sheet  of  flame.  After  we  broke  the  door  down,  I  only 
stood  and  superintended  the  moving  of  the  cars.  The 
men  did  the  real  work." 

"  But  you  said  the  inside  of  the  shed  was  a  sheet  of 
flame." 

"  Yes.  The  railroad  had  to  give  us  all  fresh  uniforms. 
So  we  made  new  toggery  out  of  that  night's  work.  I've 
heard  people  say  militia  are  no  good.  If  they  could  have 
stood  by  me  that  night,  and  seen  my  company  working 
over  those  blazing  cars,  in  that  mass  of  burning  freight, 
with  the  roof  liable  to  fall  any  minute,  and  the  strikers 
firing  every  time  a  man  showed  himself,  I  think  they 
would  have  altered  their  opinion." 

"Oh,"  said  Leonore,  her  eyes  flashing  with  enthusiasm. 
"  How  splendid  it  is  to  be  a  man,  and  be  able  to  do  real 
things  !  I  wish  I  had  known  about  it  in  Europe." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  the  officers  were  always  laughing  about  our 
army.  I  used  to  get  perfectly  wild  at  them,  but  I  couldn't 
say  anything  in  reply.  If  I  could  only  have  told  them 
about  that." 

"  Hear  the  little  Frenchwoman  talk,"  said  Watts. 

"I'm  not  French." 

"Yes  you  are,  Dot." 

"  I'm  all  American.  I  haven't  a  feeling  that  isn't  all 
American.  Doesn't  that  make  me  an  American,  Peter,  no 
matter  where  I  was  born  ? " 

"  I  think  you  are  an  American  under  the  law." 

"  Am  I  really  ?  "  said  Leonore,  incredulously. 

"Yes.  You  were  born  of  American  parents,  and  you 
will  be  living  in  this  country  when  you  become  of  age. 
That  constitutes  nationality." 

"  Oh,  how  lovely  !  I  knew  I  was  an  American,  reall/, 
but  papa  was  always  teasing  me  and  saying  I  was  a  for- 
eigner. I  hate  foreigners." 

"  Confound  you,  chum,  you've  spoiled  one  of  my  best 
jokes  !  It's  been  such  fun  to  see  Dot  bristle  when  I  teased 
her.  She's  the  hottest  little  patriot  that  ever  lived. " 

"  I  think  Miss  D'Alloi's  nationality  is  akin  to  that  of  a 
case  of  which  I  once  heard,"  said  Peter,  smiling.  "A 


238  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

man  was  bragging  about  the  number  of  famous  men  who 
were  born  in  his  native  town.  He  mentioned  a  well- 
known  personage,  among  others,  and  one  of  his  auditors 
said  :  '  I  didn't  know  he  was  born  there/  '  Oh,  yes,  he 
was/  replied  the  man.  '  He  was  born  there,  but  during 
the  temporary  absence  of  his  parents  ! ' " 

11  Peter,  how  much  does  a  written  opinion  cost?'*' 
asked  Leonore,  eagerly. 

"  It  has  a  range  about  equal  to  the  woman's  statement 
that  a  certain  object  was  as  long  as  a  piece  of  string." 

"  But  your  opinions  ?  " 

"  I  have  given  an  opinion  for  nothing.  The  other  day  I 
gave  one  to  a  syndicate,  and  charged  eight  thousand 
dollars." 

"Oh,  dear  !  "  said  Leonore.  "I  wonder  if  I  can  afford 
to  get  your  opinion  on  my  being  an  American  ?  I  should 
like  to  frame  it  and  hang  it  in  my  room.  Would  it  be 
expensive?" 

"  It  is  usual  with  lawyers/'  said  Peter  gravely,  "  to  find 
out  how  much  a  client  has,  and  then  make  the  bill  for  a 
little  less.  How  much  do  you  have  ?  " 

"  I  really  haven't  any  now.  I  shall  have  two  hundred 
dollars  on  the  first.  But  then  I  owe  some  bills." 

"  You  forget  your  grandmamma's  money,  Dot." 

"Oh  I  Of  course.  I  shall  be  rich,  Peter.  I  come  into 
the  income  of  my  property  on  Tuesday.  I  forget  how 
much  it  is,  but  I'm  sure  I  can  afford  to  have  an  opinion. " 

"  Why,  Dot,  we  must  get  those  papers  out,  and  you 
must  find  some  one  to  put  the  trust  in  legal  shape,  and 
take  care  of  it  for  you,"  said  Watts. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Leonore  to  Peter,  "  if  you  have  one 
lawyer  to  do  all  your  work,  that  he  does  each  thing 
cheaper,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Because  he  divides  what  his  client  has,  on  sev- 
eral jobs,  instead  of  on  one,"  Peter  told  her. 

"Then  I  think  I'll  have  you  do  it  all.  We'll  come  down 
and  see  you  about  it.  But  write  out  that  opinion  at 
once,  so  that  I  can  prove  that  I'm  an  American." 

"  Very  well.  But  there's  a  safer  way,  even,  of  making 
sure  that  you're  an  American. " 

"  What  is  that?  "  said  Leonore,  eagerly. 

"  Marry  one,"  said  Peter. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Leonore.  "  I've  always  intended  to 
do  that,  but  not  for  a  great  many  years." 


CALLS.  239 


CHAPTER  XLI. 
CALLS. 

PETER  dressed  himself  the  next  evening  with  particular 
care,  even  for  him.  As  Peter  dressed,  he  was  rather 
down  on  life.  He  had  been  kept  from  his  ride  that  after- 
noon by  taking  evidence  in  a  referee  case.  "I  really 
needed  the  exercise  badly/'  he  said.  He  had  tried  to 
work  his  dissatisfaction  off  on  his  clubs  and  dumb-bells, 
but  whatever  they  had  done  for  his  blood  and  tissue, 
they  had  not  eased  his  frame  of  mind.  Dinner  made 
him  a  little  pleasanter,  for  few  men  can  remain  cross 
over  a  proper  meal.  Still,  he  did  not  look  happy,  when, 
on  rising  from  his  coffee,  he  glanced  at  his  watch  and 
found  that  it  was  but  ten  minutes  past  eight. 

He  vacillated  for  a  moment,  and  then  getting  into  his 
outside  trappings,  he  went  out  and  turned  eastward, 
down  the  first  side  street.  He  walked  four  blocks,  and 
then  threw  open  the  swing  door  of  a  brilliantly  lighted 
place,  stepping  at  once  into  a  blaze  of  light  and  warmth 
which  was  most  attractive  after  the  keen  March  wind 
blowing  outside. 

He  nodded  to  the  three  barkeepers.  "  Is  Dennis 
inside  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  Misther  Stirling.     The  regulars  are  all  there." 

Peter  passed  through  the  room,  and  went  into  another 
without  knocking.  In  it  were  some  twenty  men,  sitting 
for  the  most  part  in  attitudes  denoting  ease.  Two,  at  a 
small  table  in  tru  corner,  were  playing  dominoes. 
Three  others,  in  another  corner,  were  amusing  themselves 
with  "High,  Low,  Jack."  Two  were  reading  papers. 
The  rest  were  collected  round  the  centre  table,  most  of 
them  smoking.  Some  beer  mugs  and  tumblers  were 
standing  about,  but  not  more  than  a  third  of  the  twenty 
were  drinking  anything.  The  moment  Peter  entered,  one 
of  the  men  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"B'ys,"   he  cried,    "here's  Misther    Stirling.     Begobs, 


240  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

sir,  it's  fine  to  see  yez.  It's  very  scarce  yez  been  lately." 
He  had  shaken  hands,  and  then  put  a  chair  in  place  for 
Peter. 

The  cards,  papers,  and  dominoes  had  been  abandoned 
the  moment  Dennis  announced  Peter's  advent,  and  when 
Peter  had  finished  shaking-  the  hands  held  out  to  him,  and 
had  seated  himself,  the  men  were  all  gathered  round  the 
big  table. 

Peter  laid  his  hat  on  the  table,  threw  back  his  New- 
castle and  lit  a  cigar.  "I've  been  very  short  of  time, 
Dennis.  But  I  had  my  choice  this  evening  before  going 
up-town,  of  smoking  a  cigar  in  my  own  quarters,  or 
here.  So  I  came  over  to  talk  with  you  all  about  Denton." 

"An*  what's  he  been  doin'  ?  "  inquired  Dennis. 

"  I  saw  him  to-day  about  the  Hummel  franchise  that 
comes  up  in  the  Board  next  Tuesday.  He  won't  vote  for 
it,  he  says.  I  told  him  I  thought  it  was  in  the  interest  of 
the  city  to  multiply  means  of  transit,  and  asked  him 
why  he  refused.  He  replied  that  he  thought  the  Hummel 
gang  had  been  offering  money,  and  that  he  would  vote 
against  bribers." 

"  He  didn't  have  the  face  to  say  that  ?  "  shouted  one  of 
the  listeners. 

"Yes." 

"  Oi  never  1 "  said  Dennis.  "  An'  he  workin'  night  an' 
day  to  get  the  Board  to  vote  the  rival  road." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  much  doubt  that  money  is  being 
spent  by  both  sides,"  said  Peter.  "  I  fear  no  bill  could 
ever  pass  without  it.  But  the  Hummel  crowd  are  really 
responsible  people,  who  offer  the  city  a  good  percentage. 
The  other  men  are  merely  trying  to  get  the  franchise,  to 
sell  it  out  at  a  profit  to  Hummel.  I  don't  like  the 
methods  of  either,  but  there's  a  road  needed,  and  there'll 
be  a  road  voted,  so  it's  simply  a  choice  between  the  two. 
I  shouldn't  mind  if  Denton  voted  against  both  schemes, 
but  to  say  he'll  vote  against  Hummel  for  that  reason,  and 
yet  vote  for  the  other  franchise  shows  that  he's  not 
square.  I  didn't  say  so  to  him,  because  I  wanted  to  talk  it 
over  with  the  ward  a  little  first  to  see  if  they  stood  with  me." 

"That  we  do,  sir,"  said  Dennis,  with  a  sureness  which 
was  cool,  if  nothing  more.  Fortunately  for  the  boldness 
of  the  speaker,  no  one  dissented,  and  two  or  three  couples 
nodded  heads  or  pipes  at  each  other. 


CALLS.  241 

Peter  looked  at  his  watch.  ''Then  I  can  put  the  screws 
on  him  safely,  you  think  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  several. 

Peter  rose.  "Dennis,  will  you  see  Blunkers  and 
Driscoll  this  evening,  or  some  time  to-morrow,  and  ask 
if  they  think  so  too  ?  And  if  they  don't,  tell  them  to  drop 
in  on  me,  when  they  have  leisure." 

"  Begobs,  sir,  Oi'll  see  them  inside  av  ten  minutes. 
An'  if  they  don't  agree  widus,  shure,  Oi'll  make  them." 

"Thank  you.     Good-night." 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Stirling,"  came  a  chorus,  and  Peter 
passed  into  the  street  by  the  much  maligned  side-door. 

Dennis  turned  to  the  group  with  his  face  shining 
with  enthusiasm.  "Did  yez  see  him,  b'ys  ?  There  was 
style  for  yez.  Isn't  he  somethin'  for  the  ward  to  be 
proud  av  ? " 

Peter  turned  to  Broadway,  and  fell  into  a  long  rapid 
stride.  In  spite  of  the  cold  he  threw  open  his  coat,  and 
carried  his  outer  covering  on  his  arm.  Peter  had  no  in- 
tention of  going  into  an  up-town  drawing-room  with  any 
suggestion  of  "sixt"  ward  tobacco.  So  he  walked  till 
he  reached  Madison  Square,  when,  after  a  glance  at  his 
watch,  he  jumped  into  a  cab. 

It  was  a  quarter-past  nine  when  the  footman  opened  the 
door  of  the  Fifty-seventh  Street  house,  in  reply  to  Peter's 
ring.  Yet  he  was  told  that,  "The  ladies  are  still  at  dinner." 

Peter  turned  and  went  down  the  stoop.  He  walked  to 
the  Avenue,  and  stopped  at  a  house  not  far  off. 

"Is  Mrs.  Pell  at  home?"  he  asked,  and  procured 
entrance  for  both  his  pasteboard  and  himself. 

"Welcome,  little  stranger,"  was  his  greeting.  "And 
it  is  so  nice  that  you  came  this  evening.  Here  is  Van, 
on  from  Washington  for  two  days. " 

"  I  was  going  to  look  you  up,  and  see  what  '  we,  the 
people '  were  talking  about,  so  that  I  could  enlighten  our 
legislators  when  I  go  back,"  said  a  man  of  forty. 

"  I  wrote  Pope  a  long  letter  to-day,  which  I  asked  him 
to  show  you,"  said  Peter.  "Things  are  in  a  bad  shape, 
and  getting  worse." 

"But,  Peter,"  queried  the  woman,  "if  you  are  the 
leader,  why  do  you  let  them  get  so  ? " 

"So    as   to   remain   the    leader,"   said   Peter,  smiling 
quietly. 
16 


242  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Now  that's  what  comes  of  ward  politics/'  cried  Mrs. 
Pell.  "  You  are  beginning  to  make  Irish  bulls." 

"  No,"  replied  Peter,  "  I  am  serious,  and  because 
people  don't  understand  what  I  mean,  they  don't  under- 
stand American  politics."  — 

"But  you  say  in  effect  that  the  way  you  retain  your  / 
leadership,  is  by  not  leading.     That's  absurd  !  "  ****"* 

"No.  Contradiction  though  it  may  seem  the  way  to 
lose  authority,  is  to  exercise  it  too  much.  Christ  enun- 
ciated the  great  truth  of  democratic  government,  when 
he  said,  '  He  that  would  be  the  greatest  among  you,  shall 
be  the  servant  of  all.'" 

"  I  hope  you  won't  carry  your  theory  so  far  as  to  let 
them  nominate  Maguire  ? "  said  Mr.  Pell,  anxiously. 

"Now,  please  don't  begin  on  politics, "said the  woman. 
"  Here  is  Van,  whom  I  haven't  seen  for  nine  weeks, 
and  here  is  Peter,  whom  I  haven't  seen  for  time  out  of 
mind,  and  just  as  I  think  I  have  a  red-letter  evening  be- 
fore me,  you  begin  your  everlasting  politics." 

' '  I  merely  stopped  in  to  shake  hands,"  said  Peter.  "  I 
have  a  call  to  make  elsewhere,  and  can  stay  but  twenty 
minutes.  For  that  time  we  choose  you  speaker,  and  you 
can  make  us  do  as  it  pleases  you. " 

Twenty  minutes  later  Peter  passed  into  the  D'Alloi 
drawing-room.  He  shook  Mrs.  D'Alloi's  hand  steadily, 
which  was  more  than  she  did  with  his.  Then  he  was 
made  happy  for  a  moment,  with  that  of  Leonore.  Then 
he  was  introduced  to  a  Madame  Mellerie,  whom  he 
placed  at  once  as  the  half-governess,  half-companion, 
who  had  charge  of  Leonore 's  education  ;  a  Mr.  Maxwell, 
and  a  Marquis  de  somebody.  They  were  both  good- 
looking  young  fellows  ;  and  greeted  Peter  in  a  friendly 
way.  But  Peter  did  not  like  them. 

He  liked  them  less  when  Mrs.  D'Alloi  told  him  to  sit 
in  a  given  place,  and  then  put  Madame  Mellerie  down  by 
him.  Peter  had  not  called  to  see  Madame  Mellerie.  But 
he  made  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  he  was  too  instinctively 
courteous  not  to  treat  the  Frenchwoman  with  the  same 
touch  of  deference  his  manner  towards  women  always 
had.  After  they  had  been  chatting  for  a  little  on  French 
literature,  it  occurred  to  Peter  that  her  opinion  of  him 
might  have  some  influence  with  Leonore,  so  he  decided 
that  he  would  try  and  please  her.  But  this  thought 


CALLS.  243 

turned  his  mind  to  Leonore,  and  speaking  of  her  to  her 
governess,  he  at  once  became  so  interested  in  the  facts 
she  began  to  pour  out  to  him,  that  he  forgot  entirely  about 
his  diplomatic  scheme. 

This  arrangement  continued  half  an  hour,  when  a 
dislocation  of  the  statu  quo  was  made  by  the  departure 
of  Mr.  Maxwell.  When  the  exit  was  completed,  Mrs. 
D'Alloi  turned  to  place  her  puppets  properly  again.  But 
she  found  a  decided  bar  to  her  intentions.  Peter  had 
formed  his  own  conclusions  as  to  why  he  had  been  set  to 
entertain  Madame  Mellerie,  not  merely  from  the  fact 
itself,  but  from  the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  done, 
and  most  of  all,  from  the  way  Mrs.  D'Alloi  had  man- 
aged to  stand  between  Leonore  and  himself,  as  if 
protecting  the  former,  till  she  had  been  able  to  force  her 
arrangements.  So  with  the  first  stir  Peter  had  risen, 
and  when  the  little  bustle  had  ceased  he  was  already 
standing  by  Leonore,  talking  to  her.  Mrs.  D'Alloi  did 
not  look  happy,  but  for  the  moment  she  was  helpless. 

Peter  had  had  to  skirt  the  group  to  get  to  Leonore,  and  so 
had  stood  behind  her  during  the  farewells.  She  apparently 
had  not  noticed  his  advent,  but  the  moment  she  had  done 
the  daughter-of-the-house  duty,  she  turned  to  him,  and 
said  :  "I  wondered  if  you  would  go  away  without  seeing 
me.  I  was  so  afraid  you  were  one  of  the  men  who  just 
say,  *  How  d'ye  do 'and  'Good-bye/  and  think  they've 
paid  a  call." 

"  I  called  to  see  you  to-night,  and  I  should  not  have 
gone  till  I  had  seen  you.  I'm  rather  a  persistent  man  in 
some  things." 

"Yes,"  said  Leonore,  bobbing  her  head  in  a  very 
knowing  manner,  "  Miss  De  Voe  told  me." 

"Mr.  Stirling,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  "can't  you  tell  us 
the  meaning  of  the  Latin  motto  on  this  seal  ? "  Mrs. 
D'Alloi  held  a  letter  towards  him,  but  did  not  stir  from 
her  position  across  the  room. 

Peter  understood  the  device.  He  was  to  be  drawn  off, 
and  made  to  sit  by  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  not  because  she  wanted 
to  see  him,  but  because  she  did  not  want  him  to  talk 
to  Leonore.  Peter  had  no  intention  of  being  dragooned. 
So  he  said  :  "Madame  Mellerie  has  been  telling  me  what 
a  good  Latin  scholar  Miss  D'Alloi  is.  I  certainly  shan't 
display  my  ignorance,  till  she  has  looked  at  it."  Then 


t44  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

he  carried  the  envelope  over  to  Leonore,  and  in  handing 
it  to  her,  moved  a  chair  for  her,  not  neglecting  one  for 
himself.  Mrs.  D'Alloi  looked  discouraged,  the  more 
when  Peter  and  Leonore  put  their  heads  close  together  to 
examine  the  envelope. 

"  l In  bonam  partem,'"  read  Leonore.  "That's  easy, 
mamma.  It's — why,  she  isn't  listening  !  " 

"You  can  tell  her  later.  I  have  something  to  talk  to 
you  about." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Your  dinner  in  my  quarters.  Whom  would  you  like 
to  have  there  ? " 

"Will  you  really  give  me  a  dinner?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  let  me  have  just  whom  I  want  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Oh,  lovely !  Let  me  see.  Mamma  and  papa,  of 
course. " 

"That's  four.     Now  you  can  have  two  more." 

"Peter.  Would  you  mind — I  mean — "  Leonore  hesi- 
tated a  moment  and  then  said  in  an  apologetic  tone — 
"Would  you  like  to  invite  madame  ?  I've  been  telling 
her  about  your  rooms — and  you — and  I  think  it  wou!4 
please  her  so. " 

"That  makes  five,"  said  Peter. 

"  Oh,  goody  !  "  said  Leonore,  "  I  mean,"  she  said,  cor- 
recting herself,  "  that  that  is  very  kind  of  you." 

"  And  now  the  sixth  ?" 

"That  must  be  a  man  of  course,"  said  Leonore, 
wrinkling  up  her  forehead  in  the  intensity  of  puzzlement. 
"And  I  know  so  few  men."  She  looked  out  into  space, 
and  Peter  had  a  moment's  fear  lest  she  should  see  the 
marquis,  and  name  him.  "  There's  one  friend  of  yours 
I'm  very  anxious  to  meet.  I  wonder  if  you  would  be 
willing  to  ask  him  ?  " 

"Who  is  that?" 

"Mr.  Moriarty." 

"No,  I  can't  ask  him.  I  don't  want  to  cheapen  him 
by  making  a  show  of  him." 

"Oh  !  I  haven't  that  feeling  about  him.     I " 

"I  think  you  would  understand  him  and  see  the  fine 
qualities.  But  do  you  think  others  would  ?"  Peter  men- 
tioned no  names,  but  Leonore  understood. 


CALLS.  245 

"No,"  she  said.      "  You  are  quite  right." 

"You  shall  meet  him  some  day,"  said  Peter,  "if  you 
wish,  but  when  we  can  have  only  people  who  won't  em- 
barrass or  laugh  at  him." 

"Really,  I  don't  know  whom  to  select." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  meet  Le  Grand  ?  " 

"Very  much.     He  is  just  the  man." 

"  Then  we'll  consider  that  settled.  Are  you  free  for  the 
ninth?" 

"Yes.  I'm  not  going  out  this  spring,  and  mamma  and 
papa  haven't  really  begun  yet,  and  it's  so  late  in  the  season 
that  I'm  sure  we  are  free." 

"Then  I  will  ice  the  canvas-backs  and  champagne  and 
dust  off  the  Burgundy  for  that  day,  if  your  mamma 
accedes. " 

"  Peter,  I  wanted  to  ask  you  the  other  day  about  that. 
I  thought  you  didn't  drink  wine." 

"  I  don't.  But  I  give  my  friends  a  glass,  when  they  are 
good  enough  to  come  to  me.  I  live  my  own  life,  to  please 
myself,  but  for  that  very  reason,  I  want  others  to  live  their 
lives  to  please  themselves.  Trying  to  live  other  people's 
lives  for  them,  is  a  pretty  dog-in-the-manger  business." 

Just  then  Mrs.  D'Alloi  joined  them.  "Were  you  able 
to  translate  it  ?  "  she  asked,  sitting  down  by  them. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Leonore.  "It  means  'Towards 
the  right  side/  or  as  a  motto  it  might  be  translated,  '  For 
the  right  side. ' ;; 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  had  clearly,  to  use  a  western  expression, 
come  determined  to  "settle  down  and  grow  up  with  the 
country."  So  Peter  broached  the  subject  of  the  dinner, 
and  when  she  hesitated,  Leonore  called  Watts  into  the 
group.  He  threw  the  casting  ballot  in  favor  of  the  din- 
ner, and  so  it  was  agreed  upon.  Peter  was  asked  to  come 
to  Leonore's  birthday  festival,  "  If  you  don't  mind  such 
short  notice,"  and  he  didn't  mind,  apparently.  Then  the 
conversation  wandered  at  will  till  Peter  rose.  In  doing 
so,  he  turned  to  Leonore,  and  said  : 

"I  looked  the  question  of  nationality  up  to-day,  and 
found  I  was  right.  I've  written  out  a  legal  opinion  in  my 
best  hand,  and  will  deliver  it  to  you,  on  receiving  my 
fee. 

"  How  much  is  that?  "  said  Leonore,  eagerly. 

"  That  you  come  and  get  it" 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
DOWN-TOWN  NEW  YORK. 

PETER  had  not  been  working  long  the  next  morning 
when  he  was  told  that  "  The  Honorable  Terence  Denton 
wishes  to  see  you."  "Very  well/'  he  said,  and  that 
worthy  was  ushered  in. 

"  Good-morning,  Denton.  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I  was 
going  down  to  the  Hall  to-day  to  say  something,  but 
you've  saved  me  the  trouble." 

"  I  know  you  was.  So  I  thought  I'd  get  ahead  of  you," 
said  Denton,  with  a  surly  tone  and  manner. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Peter.  Peter  had  learned  that,  with 
a  certain  class  of  individuals,  a  distance  and  a  seat  have  a 
very  dampening  effect  on  anger.  It  is  curious,  man's  in- 
stinctive desire  to  stand  up  to  and  be  near  the  object  for 
which  anger  is  felt. 

"  You've  been  talking  against  me  in  the  ward,  and 
makin'  them  down  on  me." 

"  No,  I  didn't  talk  against  you.  I've  spoken  with  some 
of  the  people  about  the  way  you  think  of  voting  on  the 
franchises." 

"  Yes.  I  wasn't  round,  but  a  friend  heard  Dennis  and 
Blunkers  a-going  over  it  last  night  And  it's  you  did  it.'f 

"  Yes.  But  you  know  me  well  enough  to  be  sure,  after 
my  talk  with  you  yesterday,  that  I  wouldn't  stop  there." 

"  So  you  try  to  set  the  pack  on  me." 

"  No.  I  try  to  see  how  the  ward  wants  its  alderman 
to  vote  on  the  franchises." 

"  Look  a-here.  What  are  you  so  set  en  the  Hummel 
crowd  for  ? " 

"  I'm  not." 

"  Is  it  because  Hummel's  a  big  contractor  and  gives 
you  lots  of  law  business  ?" 

"No,"  said  Peter,  smiling.  "  And  you  don't  think  it  is, 
either." 

"  Has  they  offered  you  some  stock  cheap  ?  " 


DO  WN-  TO  WN  NE  W  YORK.  2  47 

"Come,  come,  Den  ton.  You  know  the/uguoque  won't 
do  here." 

Denton  shifted  in  his  seat  uneasily,  not  knowing 
what  reply  to  make.  Those  two  little  Latin  words  had 
such  unlimited  powers  of  concealment  in  them.  He  did 
not  know  whether  lu  quoquc  meant  something-  about  votes, 
an  insulting  charge,  or  merely  a  reply,  and  feared  to  make 
himself  ridiculous  by  his  response  to  them.  He  was  not 
the  first  man  who  has  been  hampered  and  floored  by  his 
own  ignorance.  He  concluded  he  must  make  an  entire 
change  of  subject  to  be  safe.  So  he  said,  "  I  ain't  goin' 
to  be  no  boss's  puppy  dog." 

"No,"  said  Peter,  finding  it  difficult  not  to  smile,  "you 
are  not  that  kind  of  a  man/' 

"  I  takes  my  orders  from  no  one." 

"Denton,  no  one  wants  you  to  vote  by  order.  We 
elected  you  alderman  to  do  what  was  best  for  the  ward 
and  city,  as  it  seems  to  you.  You  are  responsible  for  your 
votes  to  us,  and  no  other  man  can  be.  I  don't  care  who 
orders  you  or  advises  you ;  in  the  end,  you  must  vote 
yourself,  and  you  yourself  will  be  held  to  account  by  us." 

"Yes.  But  if  I  don't  vote  as  you  wants,  you'll  sour 
the  boys  on  me." 

"  I  shall  tell  them  what  I  think.  You  can  do  the  same. 
It's  a  fair  game  between  us." 

"No,  it  ain't.     You're  rich  and  you  can  talk  more." 

"  You  know  my  money  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  You 
know  I  don't  try  to  deceive  the  men  in  talking  to  them. 
If  they  trust  what  I  tell  them,  it's  because  it's  reasonable, 
and  because  I  haven't  tricked  them  before." 

"  Well,  are  you  goin'  to  drive  me  out  ? " 

"I  hope  not.  I  think  you've  made  a  good  alderman, 
Denton,  and  you'll  find  I've  said  so." 

"But  now?" 

"  If  you  vote  for  that  franchise,  I  shall  certainly  tell  the 
ward,  that  1  think  youVe  done  wrong.  Then  the  ward  will 
do  as  they  please." 

"As  you  please,  you  mean." 

"No.  You've  been  long  enough  in  politics  to  know 
that  unless  I  can  make  the  ward  think  as  I  do,  I  couldn't 
do  anything.  What  would  you  care  for  my  opinion,  if  you 
didn't  know  that  the  votes  are  back  of  it  ?  " 

Just  then   the  door  swung  open,  and  Dennis  came  in. 


248  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

'''Tim  said  yez  was  alone  wid  Denton,  sir,  so  Oi  came 
right  in.  It's  a  good-mornin',  sir.  How  are  yez,  Ter- 
ence ? " 

"You  are  just  the  man  I  want,  Dennis.  Tell  Denton 
how  the  ward  feels  about  the  franchises." 

"  Shure.  It's  one  man  they  is.  An'  if  Denton  will  step 
down  to  my  place  this  night,  he'll  find  out  how  they  think/' 

' '  They  never  would  have  felt  so,  if  Mister  Stirling  hadn't 
talked  to  them.  Not  one  in  twenty  knew  the  question 
was  up." 

' '  That's  because  they  are  most  of  them  too  hard  work- 
ing to  keep  track  of  all  the  things.  Come,  Denton  ;  I  don't 
attempt  to  say  how  you  shall  vote.  I  only  tell  you  how 
it  seems  to  me.  Go  round  the  ward,  and  talk  with  others. 
Then  you  can  tell  whether  I  can  give  you  trouble  in  the 
future  or  not.  I  don't  want  to  fight  you.  We've  been 
good  friends  in  the  past,  and  we  can  do  more  by  pulling 
in  double  harness  than  by  kicking.  I  don't  know  a  man 
I  would  rather  see  at  the  Hall."  Peter  held  out  his  hand, 
and  Denton  took  it. 

"All  right,  Mister  Stirling.  I'll  do  my  best  to  stay 
friends,"  he  said,  and  went  out. 

Peter  turned  and  smiled  at  Dennis.  "They  can't  find 
out  that  it's  not  I,  but  the  ward.  So  every  time  there's 
trouble  they  lay  it  against  me,  and  it's  hard  to  keep  them 
friendly.  And  I  hate  quarrels  and  surliness." 

"It's  yezself  can  doit,  though.  Shure,  Denton  was  in 
a  great  state  av  mind  this  mornin',  they  was  tellin'  me, 
but  he's  all  right  now,  an'  will  vote  right,  or  my  name  isn't 
Dennis  Moriarty." 

"Yes.  He  doesn't  know  it  yet,  but  he'll  vote  square  on 
Tuesday." 

Just  then  Tim  brought  in  the  cards  of  Watts  and  Leonore, 
and  strangely  enough,  Peter  said  they  were  to  be  shown 
in  at  once.  In  they  came,  and  after  the  greetings,  Peter 
said: 

"  Miss  D'Alloi,  this  is  my  dear  friend,  Dennis  Moriarty. 
Dennis,  Miss  D'Alloi  has  wanted  to  know  you  because 
she's  heard  of  your  being  such  a  friend  to  me." 

"  Shure,"  said  Dennis,  taking  the  little  hand  so  eagerly 
offered  him,  "Oi'm  thinkin'  we're  both  lucky  to  be  in 
the  thoughts  at  all,  at  all,  av  such  a  sweet  young  lady." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Moriarty,  you've  kissed  the  blarney  stone/' 


DO  WN-  TO  WN  NE  W  YORK.  2  49 

"Begobs,"  responded  Dennis,  "it  needs  no  blarney 
Stone  to  say  that.  It's  afther  sayin'  itself/' 

"Peter,  have  you  that  opinion  ?  " 

' '  Yes. "  Peter  handed  her  out  a  beautifully  written  sheet 
of  script,  all  in  due  form,  and  given  an  appearance  of  vast 
learning,  by  red  ink  marginal  references  to  such  solid 
works  as  "Wheaton,"  "Story/'  and  "  Cranch's"  and 
"  Wallace's  "  reports.  Peter  had  taken  it  practically  from 
a  "Digest,"  but  many  apparently  learned  opinions  come 
from  the  same  source.  And  the  whole  was  given  value 
by  the  last  two  lines,  which  read,  "Respectfully  submitted, 
Peter  Stirling."  Peter's  name  had  value  at  the  bottom  of 
a  legal  opinion,  or  a  check,  if  nowhere  else. 

"Look,  Mr.  Moriarty,"  cried  Leonore,  too  full  of  hap- 
piness over  this  decision  of  her  nationality  not  to  wish  for 
some  one  with  whom  to  share  it,  "I've  always  thought 
I  was  French — though  I  didn't  feel  so  a  bit — and  now  Mr. 
Stirling  has  made  me  an  American,  and  I'm  so  happy.  I 
hate  foreigners." 

Watts  laughed.  "Why,  Dot.  You  mustn't  say  that  to 
Mr.  Moriarty.  He's  a  foreigner  himself." 

"Oh,  I  forgot.  I  didn't  think  that "  Poor  Leonore 

stopped  there,  horrified  at  what  she  had  said. 

"No,"  said  Peter,  "Dennis  is  not  a  foreigner.  He's 
one  of  the  most  ardent  Americans  I  know.  As  far  as  my 
experience  goes,  to  make  one  of  Dennis's  bulls,  the  hot- 
test American  we  have  to-day,  is  the  Irish-American." 

"Oh,  come, "said  Watts.  "  You  know  every  Irishman 
pins  his  loyalty  to  the  'owld  counthry.  ' 

"  Shure,"  said  Dennis,  "an'  if  they  do,  what  then? 
Sometimes  a  man  finds  a  full-grown  woman,  fine,  an' 
sweet,  an'  strong,  an'  helpful  to  him,  an'  he  comes  to  love 
her  big  like.  But  does  that  make  him  forget  his  old  weak 
mother,  who's  had  a  hard  life  av  it,  yet  has  done  her 
best  by  him  ?  Begobs  !  If  he  forgot  her,  he  wouldn't  be 
the  man  to  make  a  good  husband.  Oi  don't  say  Oi'm  a 
good  American,  for  its  small  Oi  feel  besides  Misther  Stir- 
ling. But  Oi  love  her,  an'  if  she  ever  wants  the  arm,  or 
the  blood,  or  the  life,  av  Dennis  Moriarty,  she's  only  got 
to  say  so." 

"  Well,"  said  Watts,  "  this  is  very  interesting,  both  as 
a  point  of  view  and  as  oratory  ;  but  it  isn't  business. 
Peter,  we  came  down  this  mornin'g  to  take  whatever  legal 


2-0  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

*j 

steps  are  necessary  to  put  Dot  in  possession  of  her  grand- 
mother's money,  of  which  I  have  been  trustee.  Here  is 
a  lot  of  papers  about  it.  I  suppose  everything  is  there 
relating  to  it." 

11  Papa  seemed  to  think  it  would  be  very  wise  to  ask 
you  to  take  care  of  it,  and  pay  me  the  income.  I  can't 
have  the  principal  till  I'm  twenty-five." 

<(  You  must  tie  it  up  someway,  Peter,  or  Dot  will  make 
ducks  and  drakes  of  it.  She  has  about  as  much  idea  of 
the  value  of  money  as  she  has  of  the  value  of  foreigners. 
When  we  had  our  villa  at  Florence,  she  supported  the 
entire  pauper  population  of  the  city. " 

Peter  had  declined  heretofore  the  care  of  trust  funds. 
But  it  struck  him  that  this  was  really  a  chance — from  a  busi- 
ness standpoint,  entirely  !  It  is  true,  the  amount  was  only 
ninety- two  thousand,  and,  as  a  trust  company  would  handle 
that  sum  of  money  for  four  hundred  and  odd  dollars,  he 
was  bound  to  do  the  same  ;  and  this  would  certainly  not 
pay  him  for  his  time.  "Sometimes,  however,"  said  Peter 
to  himself,  "these  trusteeships  have  very  handsome  pick- 
ings, aside  from  the  half  per  cent. "  Peter  did  not  say  that 
the  "pickings,"  as  they  framed  themselves  in  his  mind, 
were  sundry  calls  on  him  at  his  office,  and  a  justifiable 
reason  at  all  times  for  calling  on  Leon  ore  ;  to  say  noth- 
ing of  letters  and  other  unearned  increment.  So  Peter 
was  not  obstinate  this  time.  "  It's  such  a  simple  matter 
that  I  can  have  the  papers  drawn  while  you  wait,  if 
you've  half  an  hour  to  spare."  Peter  did  this,  thinking  it 
would  keep  them  longer,  but  later  it  occurred  to  him  it 
would  have  been  better  to  find  some  other  reason,  and 
leave  the  papers,  because  then  Leonore  would  have  had 
to  come  again  soon.  Peter  was  not  quite  as  cool  and  far- 
seeing  as  he  was  normally. 

He  regretted  his  error  the  more  when  they  all  took  his 
suggestion  that  they  go  into  his  study.  Peter  rang  for  his 
head  clerk,  and  explained  what  was  needed  with  great 
rapidity,  and  then  left  the  latter  and  went  into  the  study. 

"  I  wonder  what  he's  in  such  a  hurry  for?  "  said  the 
clerk,  retiring  with  the  papers. 

When  Peter  entered  the  library  he  found  Leonore  and 
Watts  reposing  in  chairs,  and  Dennis  standing  in  front  of 
them,  speaking.  This  was  what  Dennis  was  saying  : 

'"Schatter,  boys,   an*  find  me  a  sledge/     Shure,   we 


DO  WN- TO  WN  NE  W  YORK.  251 

thought  it  was  demented  he  was,  but  he  was  the  only  cool 
man,  an'  orders  were  orders.  Dooley,  he  found  one,  an* 
then  the  captain  went  to  the  rails  an'  gave  it  a  swing,  an' 
struck  the  bolts  crosswise  like,  so  that  the  heads  flew  off, 
like  they  was  shootin*  stars.  Then  he  struck  the  rails 
sideways,  so  as  to  loosen  them  from  the  ties.  Then  says 
he  :  '  Half  a  dozen  av  yez  take  off  yez  belts  an'  strap  these 
rails  together  ! '  Even  then  we  didn't  understand,  but  we 
did  it.  All  this  time  the  dirty  spal — Oi  ask  yez  pardon, 
miss — all  this  time  the  strikers  were  pluggin'  at  us,  an' 
bullets  flyin'  like  fun.  *  Drop  your  muskets/  says  the 
captain,  when  we  had  done ;  '  fall  in  along  those  rails. 
Pick  them  up,  and  double-quick  for  the  shed  door,'  says 
he,  just  as  if  he  was  on  parade.  Then  we  saw  what  he 
was  afther,  and  double-quick  we  went.  Begobsr  that 
door  went  down  as  if  it  was  paper.  He  was  the  first  in. 
'  Stand  back,'  says  he,  '  till  Oi  see  what's  needed.'  Yez 
should  have  seen  him  walk  into  that  sheet  av  flame,  an' 
stand  theer,  quiet-like,  thinkin',  an'  it  so  hot  that  we 
at  the  door  were  coverin'  our  faces  to  save  them  from 
scorchin'.  Then  he  says  :  '  Get  your  muskets ! '  We 
went,  an'  Moike  says  to  me  :  '  It's  no  good.  No  man 
can  touch  them  cars.  He's  goin'  to  attind  to  the  strik- 
ers.' But  not  he.  He  came  out,  an'  he  says  :  '  B'ys, 
it's  hot  in  there,  but,  if  you  don't  mind  a  bit  av  a  burn,  we 
can  get  the  poor  fellows  out.  Will  yez  try  ?  '  '  Yes  1  *  we 
shouted.  So  he  explained  how  we  could  push  cars  wid- 
out  touchin' them.  'Fall  in,'  says  he.  'Fix  bayonets. 
First  file  to  the  right  av  the  cars,  second  rank  to  the  left. 
.  Forward,  march  ! '  An'  we  went  into  that  hell,  an'  rolled 
them  cars  out  just  as  if  we  was  marchin'  down  Broad- 
way, wid  flags,  an'  music,  an'  women  clappin'  hands." 

"  But  weren't  you  dreadfully  burnt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  miss,  yez  should  have  seen  us  !  We  was  blacker 
tKin  the  divil  himsilf.  Hardly  one  av  us  but  didn't  have 
the  hair  burnt  off  the  part  his  cap  didn't  cover  ;  an',  as  for 
eyelashes,  an*  mustaches,  an'  blisters,  no  one  thought  av 
them  the  next  day.  Shure,  the  whole  company  was  in 
bed,  except  them  as  couldn't  lie  easy." 

"And  Mr.  Stirling?" 

"  Shure,  don't  yez  know  about  him  ? " 

"No." 

"  Why,  he  was  dreadful  burnt,  an'  the  doctors  thought 


252  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

it  would  be  blind  he'd  be  ;  but  he  went  to  Paris,  an*  they 
did  somethin'  to  him  there  that  saved  him.  Oh,  miss, 
the  boys  were  nearly  crazy  wid  fear  av  losin'  him.  They'd 
rather  be  afther  losin'  the  regimental  cat." 

Peter  had  been  tempted  to  interrupt  two  or  three  times, 
but  it  was  so  absorbing  to  watch  Leonore's  face,  and  its 
changing  expression,  as,  unconscious  of  his  presence,  she 
listened  to  Dennis,  that  Peter  had  not  the  heart  to  do  it. 
But  now  Watts  spoke  up. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Peter?  There's  value  for  you  ! 
You're  better  than  the  cat. " 

So  the  scenes  were  shifted,  and  they  all  sat  and  chatted 
till  Dennis  left.  Then  the  necessary  papers  were  brought 
in  and  looked  over  at  Peter's  study-table,  and  Miss  D'Alloi 
took  another  of  his  pens.  Peter  hoped  she'd  stop  and 
think  a  little,  again,  but  she  didn't.  Just  as  she  had  be- 
gun an  L  she  hesitated,  however. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "this  paper  calls  me  'Leonore 
D'Alloi,  spinster  ! '  I'm  not  going  to  sign  that." 

"  That  is  merely  the  legal  term, "  Peter  explained.  Leo- 
nore pouted  for  some  time  over  it,  but  finally  signed.  "  I 
shan't  be  a  spinster,  anyway,  even  if  the  paper  does  say 
so, "  she  said. 

Peter  agreed  with  her. 

"  See  what  a  great  blot  I've  made  on  your  clean  blot- 
ter," said  Leonore,  who  had  rested  the  pen-point  there. 
41  I'm  very  sorry. "  Then  she  wrote  on  the  blotter,  "  Leo- 
nore D'Alloi.  Her  very  untidy  mark. "  "  That  was  what 
Madame  Mellerie  always  made  me  write  on  my  exercises. " 

Then  they  said  "Good-bye."  "  I  like  down-town  New 
York  better  and  better,"  said  Leonore. 

So  did  Peter. 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 
A  BIRTHDAY   EVENING. 

PETER  went  into  Ray's  office  on  Monday.  "  I  want 
your  advice,"  he  said.  "  I'm  going  to  a  birthday  dinner 
to-morrow.  A  girl  for  whom  I'm  trustee.  Now,  how 
handsome  a  present  may  I  send  her?" 

"  H'm.     How  well  do  you  know  her  ?  " 


A  BIRTHDA  Y  E VENING.  253 

"We  are  good  friends." 

"Just  about  what  you  please,  I  should  say,  if  you  know 
her  well,  and  make  money  out  of  her  ? " 

"That  is,  jewelry?" 

"Ye— es." 

' '  Thanks. "     Peter  turned. 

1 '  Who  is  she,  Peter  ?  I  thought  you  never  did  any- 
thing so  small  as  that.  Nothing,  or  four  figures,  has 
always  seemed  your  rule  ?  " 

"This  had  extenuating  circumstances,"  smiled  Petere 

So  when  Peter  shook  hands,  the  next  evening,  with  tha 
very  swagger  young  lady  who  stood  beside  her  mother, 
receiving,  he  was  told  : 

'  'It's  perfectly  lovely  !  Look. "  And  the  little  wrist  wag 
held  up  to  him.  "And  so  were  the  flowers.  I  couldn't 
carry  a  tenth  of  them,  so  I  decided  to  only  take  papa's. 
But  I  put  yours  up  in  my  room,  and  shall  keep  them 
there."  Then  Peter  had  to  give  place  to  another,  just  as 
he  had  decided  that  he  would  have  one  of  the  flowers  from 

the  bunch  she  was  carrying,  or he  left  the  awful  con*» 

sequences  of  failure  blank. 

Peter  stood  for  a  moment  unconscious  of  the  other 
people,  looking  at  the  pretty  rounded  figure  in  the  dainty 
evening  dress  of  French  open-work  embroidery.  "  I  didn't 
think  she  could  be  lovelier  than  she  was  in  her  street  and 
riding  dresses  but  she  is  made  for  evening  dress,"  was  his 
thought.  He  knew  this  observation  wasn't  right,  however, 
so  he  glanced  round  the  room,  and  then  walked  up  to  a 
couple. 

"  There,  I  told  Mr.  Beekman  that  I  was  trying  to  mag- 
netize you,  and  though  your  back  was  turned,  you  came 
to  me  at  once." 

"Er — really,  quite  wonderful,  you  know,"  said  Mr. 
Beekman.  "  I  positively  sharn't  dare  to  be  left  alone  with 
you,  Miss  De  Voe." 

"  You  needn't  fear  me.  I  shall  never  try  to  magnetize 
you,  Mr.  Beekman,"  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "I  was  so 
pleased,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Peter,  "to  see  you 
take  that  deliberate  survey  of  the  room,  and  then  come 
over  here." 

Peter  smiled.  "I  go  out  so  little  now,  that  I  have 
turned  selfish.  I  don't  go  to  entertain  people.  I  go  to  be 
entertained.  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing?  " 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLfNG. 

But  as  Peter  spoke,  there  was  a  little  stir,  and  Peter  had 
to  say  "excuse  me."  He  crossed  the  room,  and  said,  "I 
am  to  have  the  pleasure,  Mrs.  Grinnell,"  and  a  moment 
later  the  two  were  walking  towards  the  dining-room. 
Miss  De  Voe  gave  her  arm  to  Beekman  calmly,  but  her 
eyes  followed  Peter.  They  both  could  have  made  a  better 
arrangement.  Most  dinner  guests  can. 

It  was  a  large  dinner,  and  so  was  served  in  the  ball- 
room. The  sixty  people  gathered  were  divided  into 
little  groups,  and  seated  at  small  tables  holding  six  or 
eight.  Peter  knew  all  but  one  at  his  table,  to  the  extent  of 
having  had  previous  meetings.  They  were  all  fashion- 
ables, and  the  talk  took  the  usual  literary-artistic-musical 
turn  customary  with  that  set.  "Men,  not  principles"  is 
the  way  society  words  the  old  cry,  or  perhaps  "  person- 
alities, not  generalities  "  is  a  better  form.  So  Peter  ate  his 
dinner  quietly,  the  conversation  being  general  enough  not 
to  force  him  to  do  more  than  respond,  when  appealed  to. 
He  was,  it  is  true,  appealed  to  frequently.  Peter  had  the 
reputation,  as  many  quiet  men  have,  of  being  brainy. 
Furthermore  he  knew  the  right  kind  of  people,  was  known 
to  enjoy  a  large  income,  was  an  eligible  bachelor,  and 
was  "interesting  and  unusual."  So  society  no  longer 
rolled  its  Juggernaut  over  him  regardlessly,  as  of  yore. 
A  man  who  was  close  friends  with  half  a  dozen  exclusives 
of  the  exclusives,  was  a  man  not  to  be  disregarded,  simply 
because  he  didn't  talk.  Society  people  applied  much  the 
same  test  as  did  the  little  '  'angle  "  children,  only  in  place  of 
"  he's  frinds  wid  der  perlice,"  they  substituted  "  he's  very 
intimate  with  Miss  De  Voe,  and  the  Ogdens  and  the  Pells." 

Peter  had  dimly  hoped  that  he  would  find  himself 
seated  at  Leonore's  table — He  had  too  much  self  de- 
preciation to  think  for  a  moment  that  he  would  take  her 
in — but  hers  was  a  young  table,  he  saw,  and  he  would 
not  have  minded  so  much  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  Mar- 
quis. Peter  began  to  have  a  very  low  opinion  of  for- 
eigners. Then  he  remembered  that  Leonore  h  ad  the  same 
prejudice,  so  he  became  more  reconciled  to  the  fact  that 
the  Marquis  was  sitting  next  her.  And  when  Leonore 
sent  him  a  look  and  a  smile,  and  held  up  the  wrist,  so  as 
to  show  the  pearl  bracelet,  Peter  suddenly  thought  what 
a  delicious  rissole  he  was  eating. 

As  the  dinner  waned,  one  ot  the  footmen  brought  him  a 


A  SIR  THDA  Y  E  VENING.  255 

card,  on  which  Watts  had  written  :  "They  want  me  to 
say  a  few  words  of  welcome  and  of  Dot.  Will  you  re* 
spond  ?  "  Peter  read  the  note  and  then  wrote  below  it : 
"Dear  Miss  D'Alloi:  You  see  the  above.  May  I  pay 
you  a  compliment?  Only  one?  Or  will  it  embarrass 
you  ?  "  When  the  card  came  back  a  new  line  said  :  "Dear 
Peter  :  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  compliment,  and  am  very 
curious  to  hear  it."  Peter  said,  "Tell  Mr.  D'Alloi  that  I 
will  with  pleasure. "  Then  he  tucked  the  card  in  his  pocket. 
That  card  was  not  going  to  be  wasted. 

So  presently  the  glasses  were  filled  up,  even  Peter  say- 
ing, "  You  may  give  me  a  glass,"  and  Watts  was  on  his 
feet.  He  gave  "our  friends"  a  pleasant  welcome,  and 
after  apologizing  for  their  absence,  said  that  at  least,  "like 
the  little  wife  in  the  children's  play,  '  We  too  have  not  been 
idle/  for  we  bring  you  a  new  friend  and  introduce  her  to 
you  to-night." 

Then  Peter  rose,  and  told  the  host :  "Your  friends  have 
been  grieved  at  your  long  withdrawal  from  them,  as  the 
happy  faces  and  welcome  we  tender  you  this  evening, 
show.  We  feared  that  the  fascination  of  European  art, 
with  its  beauty  and  ease  and  finish,  had  come  to  over- 
weigh  the  love  of  American  nature,  despite  its  life  and 
strength  and  freshness  ;  that  we  had  lost  you  for  all  time. 
But  to-night  we  can  hardly  regret  even  this  long  inter- 
lude, if  to  that  circumstance  we  owe  the  happiest  and 
most  charming  combination  of  American  nature  and 
European  art — Miss  D'Alloi." 

Then  there  was  applause,  and  a  drinking  of  Miss 
D'Alloi's  health,  and  the  ladies  passed  out  of  the  room — 
to  enjoy  themselves,  be  it  understood,  leaving  the  men  in 
the  gloomy,  quarrelsome  frame  of  mind  it  always  does. 

Peter  apparently  became  much  abstracted  over  his  cigar, 
but  the  abstraction  was  not  perhaps  very  deep,  for  he  was 
on  his  feet  the  moment  Watts  rose,  and  was  the  first  to 
cross  the  hall  into  the  drawing-room.  He  took  a  quick 
glance  round  the  room,  and  then  crossed  to  a  sofa. 
Dorothy  and — and  some  one  else  were  sitting  on  it. 

"Speaking  of  angels,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  I  wasn't  speaking  of  you,"  said  Peter.  "  Only  think* 
ing." 

' There,"  said  Leonore.      "Now  if  Mrs,  Grinnell  had 
only  heard  that," 


256  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 

Peter  looked  a  question,  so  Leonore  continued  : 

"We  were  talking  about  you.  I  don't  understand  you. 
You  are  so  different  from  what  I  had  been  told  to  think 
you.  Every  one  said  you  were  very  silent  and  very  un- 
complimentary, and  never  joked,  but  you  are  not  a  bit  as 
they  said,  and  I  thought  you  had  probably  changed,  just 
as  you  had  about  the  clothes.  But  Mrs.  Grinnell  says  she 
never  heard  you  make  a  joke  or  a  compliment  in  her  life, 
and  that  at  the  Knickerbocker  they  call  you  '  Peter,  the 
silent. '  You  are  a  great  puzzle. " 

Dorothy  laughed.  "Here  we  four  women — Mrs. 
Grinnell,  and  Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Leonore  and  myself— 
have  been  quarrelling  over  you,  and  each  insisting  you 
are  something  different.  I  believe  you  are  not  a  bit  firm 
and  stable,  as  people  say  you  are,  but  a  perfect  chameleon, 
changing  your  tint  according  to  the  color  of  the  tree  you 
are  on.  Leonore  was  the  worst,  though  !  She  says  that 
you  talk  and  joke  a  great  deal.  We  could  have  stood 
anything  but  that  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  my  conversation  and  humor  are  held  in 
such  low  estimation." 

"There, "said  Leonore.  "See.  Didn't  I  tell  you  he 
joked  ?  And,  Peter;  do  you  dislike  women  ?  " 

"Unquestionably,"  said  Peter. 

"Please  tell  me.  I  told  them  of  your  speech  about  the 
sunshine,  and  Mrs.  Winthrop  says  that  she  knows  you 
didn't  mean  it.  That  you  are  a  woman-hater  and  de- 
spise all  women,  and  like  to  get  off  by  yourself. " 

"That's  the  reason  I  joined  you  and  Dorothy,"  said 
Peter. 

"  Do  you  hate  women  ?  "  persisted  Leonore. 

"A  man  is  not  bound  to  incriminate  himself,"  replied 
Peter,  smiling. 

"Then  that's  the  reason  why  you  don't  like  society, 
and  why  you  are  so  untalkative  to  women.  I  don't  like 
men  who  think  badly  of  women.  Now,  I  want  to  know 
why  you  don't  like  them  ?  " 

"  Supposing,"  said  Peter,  "  you  were  asked  to  sit  down 
to  a  game  of  whist,  without  knowing  anything  of  the 
game.  Do  you  think  you  could  like  it  ?  " 

"No.      Of  course  not  !" 

"Well,  that  is  my  situation  toward  women.  They 
have  never  liked  me,  nor  treated  me  as  they  do  other 


A  BIRTHDA  Y  EVENING.  257 

men.  And  so,  when  I  am  put  with  a  small-talk  woman, 
I  feel  all  at  sea,  and,  try  as  I  may,  I  can't  please  her. 
They  are  never  friendly  with  me  as  they  are  with  other 
men." 

"  Rubbish  !"  said  Dorothy.  "It's  what  you  do,  not 
what  she  does,  that  makes  the  trouble.  You  look  at  a 
woman  with  those  grave  eyes  and  that  stern  jaw  of  yours, 
and  we  all  feel  that  we  are  fools  on  the  spot,  and  really 
become  so.  I  never  stopped  being  afraid  of  you  till  I 
found  out  that  in  reality  you  were  afraid  of  me.  You 
know  you  are.  You  are  afraid  of  all  women." 

"He  isn't  a  bit  afraid  of  women/' affirmed  Leonore. 

Just  then  Mr.  Beekman  came  up.  "Er — Mrs.  Riving- 
ton.  You  know  this  is — er — a  sort  of  house-warming,  and 
they  tell  me  we  are  to  go  over  the  house,  don't  you  know, 
if  we  wish.  May  I  harve  the  pleasure  ?  " 

Dorothy  conferred  the  boon.  Peter  looked  down  at 
Leonore  with  a  laugh  in  his  eyes.  "Er — Miss  D'Alloi," 
he  said,  with  the  broadest  of  accents,  "you  know  this, — 

er — is  a  sort   of  a   house-warming   and "     He    only 

imitated  so  far  and  then  they  both  laughed. 

Leonore  rose.  "With  pleasure.  I  only  wish  Mrs. 
Grinnell  had  heard  you.  I  didn't  know  you  could 
mimic  ? " 

"  I  oughtn't.  It's  a  small  business.  But  I  am  so  happy 
that  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation." 

Leonore  asked,  "  What  makes  you  so  happy  ? " 

"My  new  friend,"  said  Peter. 

Leonore  went  on  up  the  stairs  without  saying  anything. 
At  the  top,  however,  she  said,  enthusiastically:  "You 
do  say  the  nicest  things  !  What  room  would  you  like  to 
see  first  ? " 

"Yours/*  said  Peter. 

So  they  went  into  the  little  bedroom,  and  boudoir,  and 
looked  over  them.  Of  course  Peter  found  a  tremendous 
number  of  things  of  interest.  There  were  her  pictures, 
most  of  them  her  own  purchases  in  Europe ;  and  her 
books  and  what  she  thought  of  them  ;  and  her  thousand 
little  knick-knacks  of  one  kind  and  another.  Peter  wasn't 
at  all  in  a  hurry  to  see  the  rest  of  the  house. 

"These  are  the  photographs  of  my  real  friends/'  said 
Leonore,  "  except  yours,     I  want  you  to  give  me  one  to 
complete  my  rack." 
17 


/58  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

11 1  haven't  had  a  photograph  taken  in  eight  years,  an<i 
am  afraid  I  have  none  left." 

"Then  you  must  sit." 

"Very  well.  But  it  must  be  an  exchange."  Peter  al- 
most trembled  at  his  boldness,  and  at  the  thought  of  a 
possible  granting. 

"  Do  you  want  mine  ?  " 

"Very  much." 

"I  have  dozens,"  said  Leonore,  going  over  to  her  desk, 
and  pulling  open  a  drawer.  "  I'm  very  fond  of  being 
taken.  You  may  have  your  choice." 

"That's  very  difficult,"  said  Peter,  looking  at  the  differ- 
ent varieties.  "Each  has  something  the  rest  haven't. 
You  don't  want  to  be  generous,  and  let  me  have  these 
four?" 

"Oh,  you  greedy!"  said  Leonore,  laughing.  "Yes, 
if  you'll  do  something  I'm  going  to  ask  you." 

Peter  pocketed  the  four.  " That  is  a  bargain,"  he  said, 
with  a  brashness  simply  disgraceful  in  a  good  business 
man.  "  Now,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Miss  De  Voe  told  me  long  ago  about  your  savings- 
bank  fund  for  helping  the  poor  people.  Now  that  I  have 
come  into  my  money,  I  want  to  do  what  she  does.  Give 
a  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  it — and  then  you  are  to  tell 
me  just  what  you  do  with  it." 

"Of  course  I'm  bound  to  take  it,  if  you  insist.  But  it 
won't  do  any  good.  Even  Miss  De  Voe  has  stopped 
giving  now,  and  I  haven't  added  anything  to  it  for  over 
five  years." 

"Why  is  that?" 

"You  see,  I  began  by  loaning  the  fund  to  people  who 
were  in  trouble,  or  who  could  be  boosted  a  little  by  help, 
and  for  three  or  four  years,  I  found  the  money  went 
pretty  fast.  But  by  that  time  people  began  to  pay  it  back, 
with  interest  often,  and  there  has  hardly  been  a  case  when 
it  hasn't  been  repaid.  So  what  with  Miss  De  Voe's  contri- 
butions, and  the  return  of  the  money,  I  really  have  more 
than  I  can  properly  use  already.  There's  only  about 
eight  thousand  loaned  at  present,  and  nearly  five  thousand 
in  bank." 

"  I'm  so  sorry  !  "  said  Leonore.  "But  couldn't  you  give 
some  of  the  money,  so  that  it  wouldn't  come  back  ?  " 

"That  does  more  harm  than  good.     It's  like   giving 


A  BIR  THDA  Y  E  VENING.  259 

opium  to  kill  temporary  pain.  It  stops  the  pain  for  the 
moment,  but  only  to  weaken  the  system  so  as  to  make 
the  person  less  able  to  bear  pain  in  the  future.  That's 
the  trouble  with  most  of  our  charity.  It  weakens  quite 
as  much  as  it  helps." 

"  I  have  thought  about  this  for  five  years  as  something 
I  should  do.  I'm  so  grieved."  And  Leonore  looked  her 
words. 

Peter  could  not  stand  that  look.  "I've  been  thinking 
of  sending  a  thousand  dollars  of  the  fund,  that  I  didn't 
think  there  was  much  chance  of  using,  to  a  Fresh  Air 
fund  and  the  Day  Nursery.  If  you  wish  I'll  send  two 
thousand  instead  and  then  take  your  thousand  ?  Then  I 
can  use  that  for  whatever  I  have  a  chance." 

"That  will  do  nicely.  But  I  thought  you  didn't  think 
regular  chanties  did  much  good  ?  " 

"Some  don't.  But  it's  different  with  children.  They 
don't  feel  the  stigma  and  are  not  humiliated  or  made  in- 
dolent by  help.  We  can't  do  too  much  to  help  them. 
The  future  of  this  country  depends  on  its  poor  children* 
If  they  are  to  do  right,  they  must  be  saved  from  ill-health, 
and  ignorance,  and  vice  ;  and  the  first  step  is  to  give 
them  good  food  and  air,  so  that  they  shall  have  strong 
little  bodies.  A  sound  man,  physically,  may  not  be  a 
strong  man  in  other  ways,  but  he  stands  a  much  better 
chance." 

"Oh,  it's  very  interesting,"  said  Leonore.  "Tell  me 
some  more  about  the  poor  people." 

"  What  shall  I  tell  you  ?  "  said  Peter. 

"How  to  help  them."    . 

"I'll  speak  about  something  I  have  had  in  mind  for 
a  long  time,  trying  to  find  some  way  to  do  it.  I  think 
the  finest  opportunity  for  benevolence,  not  already  at- 
tempted, would  be  a  company  to  lend  money  to  the  poor, 
just  as  I  have  attempted,  on  a  small  scale,  in  my  ward. 
You  see  there  are  thousands  of  perfectly  honest  people 
who  are  living  on  day  wages,  and  many  of  them  can  lay 
up  little  or  no  money.  Then  comes  sickness,  or  loss  of 
employment,  or  a  fire  which  burns  up  all  their  furniture 
and  clothes,  or  some  other  mischance,  and  they  can 
turn  only  to  pawnbrokers  and  usurers,  with  their  fearful 
charges ;  or  chanty,  with  its  shame.  Then  there  are 
hundreds  of  people  whom  a  loan  of  a  little  money  would 


260  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

help  wonderfully.  This  boy  can  get  a  place  if  he  had  a 
respectable  suit  of  clothes.  Another  can  obtain  work  by 
learning  a  trade,  but  can't  live  while  he  learns  it.  A 
woman  can  support  herself  if  she  can  buy  a  sewing- 
machine,  but  hasn't  the  money  to  buy  it.  Another  can 
get  a  job  at  something,  but  is  required  to  make  a  deposit 
to  the  value  of  the  goods  intrusted  to  her.  Now,  if  all 
these  people  could  go  to  some  company,  and  tell  their 
story,  and  get  their  notes  discounted,  according  to  their 
reputation,  just  as  the  merchant  does  at  his  bank,  don't 
you  see  what  a  help  it  would  be  ? " 

"How  much  would  it  take,  Peter  ? " 

"One  cannot  say,  because,  till  it  is  tested,  there  would 
be  no  way  of  knowing  how  much  would  be  asked 
for.  But  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  would  do  to  start 
with." 

"Why,  that's  only  a  hundred  people  giving  a  thousand 
each,"  cried  Leonore  eagerly.  "Peter,  I'll  give  a  thou- 
sand, and  I'll  make  mamma  and  papa  give  a  thousand, 
and  I'll  speak  to  my  friends  and " 

"Money  isn't  the  difficult  part,"  said  Peter,  longing  to 
a  fearful  degree  to  take  Leonore  in  his  arms.  "  If  it  were 
only  money,  I  could  do  it  myself — or  if  I  did  not  choose 
to  do  it  alone,  Miss  De  Voe  and  Pell  would  help  me." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"It's  finding  the  right  man  to  run  such  a  company.  I 
can't  give  the  time,  for  I  can  do  more  good  in  other 
directions.  It  needs  a  good  business  man,  yet  one  who 
must  have  many  other  qualities  which  rarely  go  with  a 
"business  training.  He  must  understand  the  poor,  because 
he  must  look  into  every  case,  to  see  if  it  is  a  safe  risk — 
or  rather  if  the  past  life  of  the  applicant  indicates  that  he 
is  entitled  to  help.  Now  if  your  grandfather,  who  is  such 
an  able  banker,  were  to  go  into  my  ward,  and  ask  about 
the  standing  of  a  man  in  it,  he  wouldn't  get  any  real  in- 
formation. But  if  I  ask,  every  one  will  tell  me  what  he 
thinks.  The  man  in  control  of  such  a  bank  must  be  able 
to  draw  out  the  truth.  Unless  the  management  was  just 
what  it  ought  to  be,  it  would  be  bankrupt  in  a  few 
months,  or  else  would  not  lend  to  one  quarter  of  the 
people  who  deserve  help.  Yet  from  my  own  experience, 
I  know,  that  money  can  be  loaned  to  these  people,  so 
that  the  legal  interest  more  than  pays  for  the  occasional 


A  BTR  THDA  Y  E  VENING.  261 

loss,  and  that  most  of  these  losses  are  due  to  inability, 
more  than  to  dishonesty." 

"I  wish  we  could  go  on  talking,"  sighed  Leonore.^ 
"  But  the  people  are  beginning  to  go  downstairs.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  go,  so  as  to  say  good-bye.  I  only  wish  I 
could  help  you  in  charity." 

"You  have  given  me  a  great  charity  this  evening," 
said  Peter. 

"You  mean  the  photographs,"  smiled  Leonore. 

"No." 

"What  else?" 

"You  have  shown  me  the  warmest  and  most  loving  of 
hearts,"  said  Peter,  "and  that  is  the  best  charity  in  the 
world. 

On  the  way  down  they  met  Lispenard  coming  up. 
"I've  just  said  good-night  to  your  mother.  I  would 
have  spoken  to  you  while  we  were  in  your  room,  but  you 
were  so  engrossed  that  Miss  Winthrop  and  I  thought  we 
had  better  not  interrupt." 

"I  didn't  see  you,"  said  Leonore. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Lispenard,  with  immense  wonder- 
ment. "I  can't  believe  that.  You  know  you  were  cut- 
ting us."  Then  he  turned  to  Peter.  "You  old  scamp, 
you,"  he  whispered,  "you  are  worse  than  the  Standard 
Oil." 

"I  sent  for  you  some  time  ago,  Leonore,"  said  her 
mother,  disapprovingly.  "The  guests  have  been  going 
and  you  were  not  here." 

"  I'm  sorry,  mamma.     I  was  showing  Peter  the  house." 

"Good-night,"  said  that  individual.  "  I  dread  formal 
dinners  usually,  but  this  one  has  been  the  pleasantest  of 
my  life." 

"That's  very  nice.  And  thank  you,  Peter,  for  the 
bracelet,  and  the  flowers,  and  the  compliment.  They 
were  all  lovely.  Would  you  like  a  rose  ? " 

Would  he  ?  He  said  nothing,  but  he  looked  enough  to 
get  it. 

"Can't  we  put  you  down  ?"  said  a  man  at  the  door. 
"It's  not  so  far  from  Washington  Square  to  your  place, 
that  your  company  won't  repay  us." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter,  "but  I  have  a  hansom  here." 

Yet  Peter  did  not  ride.  He  dismissed  cabby,  and 
walked  down  the  Avenue.  Peter  was  not  going  to  com,- 


362  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

press  his  happiness  inside  a  carriage  that  evening.  He 
needed  the  whole  atmosphere  to  contain  it. 

As  he  strode  along  he  said  : 

"It  isn't  her  beauty  and  grace  alone  " — (It  never  is  with 
a  man,  oh,  no  ! ) — "  but  her  truth  and  frankness  and  friend- 
liness. And  then  she  doesn't  care  for  money,  and  she 
isn't  eaten  up  with  ambition.  She  is  absolutely  untouched 
by  the  world  yet.  Then  she  is  natural,  yet  reserved,  with 
other  men.  She's  not  husband-hunting,  like  so  many  of 
them.  And  she's  loving,  not  merely  of  those  about  her, 
but  of  everything." 

Musicians  will  take  a  simple  theme  and  on  it  build  un- 
limited variations.  This  was  what  Peter  proceeded  to 
do.  From  Fifty-seventh  Street  to  Peter's  rooms  was  a 
matter  of  four  miles.  Peter  had  not  half  finished  his  the- 
matic treatment  of  Leonore  when  he  reached  his  quarters. 
He  sat  down  before  his  fire,  however,  and  went  on,  not 
with  hope  of  exhausting  all  possible  variations,  but  merely 
for  his  own  pleasure. 

Finally,  however,  he  rose  and  put  photographs,  rose, 
and  card  away. 

"I've  not  allowed  myself  to  yield  to  it,"  he  said  (which 
was  a  whopper)  "till  I  was  sure  she  was  what  I  could 
always  love.  Now  I  shall  do  my  best  to  make  her  love 
me." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 
A  GOOD  DAY. 

THE  next  day  it  was  raining  torrents,  but  despite  this, 
and  to  the  utter  neglect  of  his  law  business,  Peter  drove 
up-town  immediately  after  lunch,  to  the  house  in  Fifty- 
seventh  Street.  He  asked  for  Watts,  but  while  he  was 
waiting  for  the  return  of  the  servant,  he  heard  a  light  foot- 
step, and  turning,  he  found  Leonore  fussing  over  some 
flowers.  At  the  same  moment  she  became  conscious  of 
his  presence. 

"  Good-day,"  said  Peter. 

"It  isn't  a  good  day  at  all,"  said  Leonore,  in  a  discon- 
solate voice,  holding  out  her  hand  nevertheless. 

"Why  not?" 


A  GOOD  DA  K  263 

"It's  a  horrid  day,  and  I'm  in  disgrace." 

"For  what?  " 

"  For  misbehaving  last  night.  Both  mamma  and 
madame  say  I  did  very  wrong.  I  never  thought  I 
couldn't  be  real  friends  with  you."  The  little  lips  were 
trembling  slightly. 

Peter  felt  a  great  temptation  to  say  something  strong. 
"  Why  can't  the  women  let  such  an  innocent  child 
alone  ?  "  he  thought  to  himself.  Aloud  he  said,  "  If  any 
wrong  was  done,  which  I  don't  think,  it  was  my  fault 
Can  I  do  anything  ?  " 

"I  don't  believe  so,"  said  Leonore,  with  a  slight  un- 
steadiness in  her  voice.  "  They  say  that  men  will 
always  monopolize  a  girl  if  she  will  allow  it,  and  that  a 
really  well-mannered  one  won't  permit  it  for  a  moment." 

Peter  longed  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  lay  the  little 
downcast  head  against  his  shoulder,  but  he  had  to  be 
content  with  saying  :  "J  am  so  sorry  they  blame  you. 
If  I  could  only  save  you  from  it."  He  evidently  said  it 
in  a  comforting  voice,  for  the  head  was  raised  a  trifle. 

"You  see,"  said  Leonore,  "I've  always  been  very 
particular  with  men,  but  with  you  it  seemed  different. 
Yet  they  both  say  I  stayed  too  long  upstairs,  and  were 
dreadfully  shocked  about  the  photographs.  They  said  I 
ought  to  treat  you  like  other  men.  Don't  you  think  you 
are  different  ?  " 

Yes.     Peter  thought  he  was  very  different. 

"  Mr.  D'Alloi  will  see  you  in  the  library,"  announced 
the  footman  at  this  point. 

Peter  turned  to  go,  but  in  leaving  he  said:  "Is  there 
any  pleasure  or  service  I  can  do,  to  make  up  for  the 
trouble  I've  caused  you  ? " 

Leonore  put  her  head  on  one  sida,  and  looked  a  little 
less  grief-stricken.  "  Mav  I  save  that  up  ? "  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

A  moment  later  Peter  was  shaking  hands  with  Watts. 

"This  is  nice  of  you.  Quite  like  old  times.  Will  you 
smoke  ?  " 

"No.  But  please  yourself.  I've  something  to  talk 
about." 

"Fire  away." 

"Watts,  I  want  to  try  and  win  the  love  of  your  little 
girl." 


364  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Dear  old  man/'  cried  Watts,  "  there  isn't  any  one  in 
God's  earth  whom  I  would  rather  see  her  choose,  or  to 
whom  I  would  sooner  trust  her." 

"Thank  you,  Watts,"  said  Peter,  gratefully.  " Watts 
is  weak,  but  he  is  a  good  fellow,"  was  his  mental  remark. 
Peter  entirely  forgot  his  opinion  of  two  weeks  ago.  It  is 
marvellous  what  a  change  a  different  point  of  view  makes 
in  most  people. 

"  But  if  I  give  you  my  little  Dot,  you  must  promise  me 
one  thing." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  That  you  will  neve7*  tell  her  ?  Ah  !  Peter,  if  you  knew 
how  I  love  the  little  woman,  and  how  she  loves  me. 
From  no  other  man  can  she  learn  what  will  alter  that 
love.  Don't  make  my  consent  bring  us  both  suffering  ?  " 

' '  Watts,  I  give  my  word  she  shall  never  know  the  truth 
from  me." 

"God  bless  you,  Peter.  True  as  ever.  Then  that  is 
settled.  You  shall  have  a  clear  field  and  every  chance." 

"I  fear  not.  There's  something  more.  Mrs.  D'Alloi 
won't  pardon  that  incident — nor  do  I  blame  her.  I  can't 
force  my  presence  here  if  she  does  not  give  her  consent.  It 
would  be  too  cruel,  even  if  I  could  hope  to  succeed  in  spite 
of  her.  I  want  to  see  her  this  morning.  You  can  tell 
better  than  I  whether  you  had  best  speak  to  her  first,  or 
whether  I  shall  tell  her." 

"H'm.  That  is  a  corker,  isn't  it?  Don't  you  think 
you  had  better  let  things  drift  ?  " 

"No.  I'm  not  going  to  try  and  win  a  girl's  love  behind 
the  mother's  back.  Remember,  Watts,  the  mother  is  the 
only  one  to  whom  a  girl  can  go  at  such  a  time.  We 
mustn't  try  to  take  advantage  of  either." 

"Well,  I'll  speak  to  her,  and  do  my  best.  Then  I'll 
send  her  to  you.  Help  yourself  to  the  tobacco  if  you 
get  tired  of  waiting  tout  seuL" 

Watts  went  upstairs  and  knocked  at  a  door.  "Yes," 
said  a  voice.  Watts  put  his  head  in.  "Is  my  Rosebud 
so  busy  that  she  can't  spare  her  lover  a  few  moments  ?  " 

"Watts,  you  know  I  live  for  you." 

Watts  dropped  down  on  the  lounge.  "Come  here, 
then,  like  a  loving  little  wife,  and  let  me  say  my  little 
say." 

No  woman  nearing  forty  can  resist  a  little  tenderness 


A  GOOD  DAY.  265 

in  her  husband,  and  Mrs.  D'Alloi  snuggled  up  to  Watts  in 
the  pleasantest  frame  of  mind.  Watts  leaned  over  and 
kissed  her  cheek.  Then  Mrs.  D'Alloi  snuggled  some 
more. 

"Now,  I  want  to  talk  with  you  seriously,  dear,"  he 
said.  "  Who  do  you  think  is  downstairs  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"  Dear  old  Peter.  And  what  do  you  think  he's  come 
for !  " 

'  'What?" 

"Dot." 

"For  what?" 

"Fie  wants  our  consent,  dear,  to  pay  his  addresses  to 
Leonore." 

"Oh,  Watts!"  Mrs.  D'Alloi  ceased  to  snuggle,  and 
turned  a  horrified  face  to  her  husband. 

"  Fve  thought  she  attracted  him,  but  he's  such  an  im- 
passive, cool  old  chap,  that  I  wasn't  sure." 

"That's  what  I've  been  so  afraid  of.  I've  worried  so 
over  it." 

"You  dear,  foolish  little  woman.  What  was  there  to 
worry  over  ? " 

"Watts  !     You  won't  give  your  consent?  " 

"  Of  course  we  will.  Why,  what  more  do  you  want? 
Money,  reputation,  brains,  health."  (That  was  the  order 
in  which  Peter's  advantages  ranged  themselves  in  Watts's 
mind).  "I  don't  see  what  more  you  can  ask,  short  of  a 
title,  and  titles  not  only  never  have  all  those  qualities 
combined,  but  they  are  really  getting  decidedly  nouveau 
richey  and  not  respectable  enough  for  a  Huguenot  family, 
who've  lived  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  in  New  York. 
What  a  greedy  mamma  she  is  for  her  little  girl." 

"Oh,  Watts  !     But  think!" 

"  It's  hard  work,  dear,  with  your  eyes  to  look  at.  But 
I  will,  if  you'll  tell  me  what  to  think  about." 

"My  husband!  You  cannot  have  forgotten?  Oh, 
no  !  It  is  too  horrible  for  you  to  have  forgotten  that 
day." 

4 '  You  heavenly  little  Puritan  !  So  you  are  going  to 
refuse  Peter  as  a  son-in-law,  because  he — ah — he's  not  a 
Catholic  monk.  Why,  Rosebud,  if  you  are  going  to  apply 
that  rule  to  all  Dot's  lovers,  you  had  better  post  a  sign  ; 
'Wanted,  a  husband.  P.  S.  No  man  need  apply.  "J 


266  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Watts  !     Don't  talk  so." 

"Dear  little  woman.  I'm  only  trying  to  show  you 
that  we  can't  do  better  than  trust  our  little  girl  to  Peter." 

"With  that  stain!  Oh,  Watts,  give  him  our  pure, 
innocent,  spotless  child  !  " 

"Oh,  well.  If  you  want  a  spotless  wedding,  let  her 
marry  the  Church.  She'll  never  find  one  elsewhere,  my 
darling." 

"Watts!'  How  can  you  talk  so?  And  with  yourself 
as  an  example.  Oh,  husband  !  I  want  our  child — our 
only  child — to  marry  a  man  as  noble  and  true  as  her 
father.  Surely  there  must  be  others  like  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  think  there  are  a  great  many  men  as  good  as 
I,  Rosebud  !  But  I'm  no  better  than  I  should  be,  and 
it's  nothing  but  your  love  that  makes  you  think  I  am." 

"I  won't  hear  you  say  such  things  of  yourself.  You 
know  you  are  the  best  and  purest  man  that  ever  lived. 
You  know  you  are." 

"If  there's  any  good  in  me,  it's  because  I  married 
you. " 

"  Watts,  you  couldn't  be  bad  if  you  tried/'  And  Mrs. 
D'Alloi  put  her  arms  round  Watts's  neck  and  kissed  him. 

Watts  fondled  her  for  a  moment  in  true  lover's  fashion. 
Then  he  said,  "Dear  little  wife,  a  pure  woman  can 
never  quite  know  what  this  world  is.  I  love  Dot  next 
to  you,  and  would  not  give  her  to  a  man  whom  I 
believe  would  not  be  true  to  her,  or  make  her  happy.  I 
know  every  circumstance  of  Peter's  connection  with  that 
woman,  and  he  is  as  blameless  as  man  ever  was.  Such 
as  it  was,  it  was  ended  years  ago,  and  can  never  give 
him  more  trouble.  He  is  a  strong  man,  and  will  be  true 
to  Dot.  She  might  get  a  man  who  would  make  her  life 
one  long  torture.  She  may  be  won  by  a  man  who  only 
cares  for  her  money,  and  will  not  even  give  her  the  husks 
of  love.  But  Peter  loves  her,  and  has  outgrown  his 
mistakes.  And  don't  forget  that  but  for  him  we  might 
now  have  nothing  but  some  horribly  mangled  remains 
to  remember  of  our  little  darling.  Dear,  I  love  Dot  twenty 
times  more  than  I  love  Peter.  For  her  sake,  and  yours,  I 
am  trying  to  do  my  best  for  her. " 

So  presently  Mrs.  D'Alloi  came  into  the  library,  where 
Peter  sat.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  but  Peter  said  : 

"  Let  me  say  something  first.     Mrs.    D'Alloi,  I  would 


A  GOOD  DAY.  267 

not  have  had  that  occurrence  happen  in  your  home  or 
presence  if  I  had  been  able  to  prevent  it.  It  grieves  me 
more  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  am  not  a  rou6.  In  spite  of 
appearances  I  have  lived  a  clean  life.  I  shall  never  live 
any  other  in  the  future.  I — I  love  Leonore.  Love  her 
very  dearly.  And  if  you  will  give  her  to  me,  should  I 
win  her,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  will  give  her  the 
love,  and  tenderness,  and  truth  which  she  deserves. 
Now,  will  you  give  me  your  hand  ? " 

"  He  is  speaking  the  truth,"  thought  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  as 
Peter  spoke.  She  held  out  her  hand.  "I  will  trust  her 
to  you  if  she  chooses  you. " 

Half  an  hour  later,  Peter  went  back  to  the  drawing, 
room,  to  find  Leonore  reposing  in  an  exceedingly  un- 
dignified position  before  the  fire  on  a  big  tiger-skin,  and 
stroking  a  Persian  cat,  who,  in  delight  at  this  enviable 
treatment,  purred  and  dug  its  claws  into  the  rug.  Peter 
stood  for  a  time  watching  the  pretty  tableau,  wishing  he 
was  a  cat. 

"  Yes,  Tawney-eye,"  said  Leonore,  in  heartrending 
tones,  "  it  isn't  a  good  day  at  all." 

"I'm  going  to  quarrel  with  you  on  that,"  said  Peter. 
"  It's  a  glorious  day." 

Leonore  rose  from  the  skin.  "Tawney-eye  and  I 
don't  think  so. " 

"  But  you  will.  In  the  first  place  I've  explained  about 
the  monopoly  and  the  photographs  to  your  mamma,  and 
she  says  she  did  not  understand  it,  and  that  no  one  is  to 
blame.  Secondly,  she  says  I'm  to  stay  to  dinner  and  am 
to  monopolize  you  till  then.  Thirdly,  she  says  we  may 
be  just  as  good  friends  as  we  please.  Fourthly,  she  has 
asked  me  to  come  and  stay  for  a  week  at  Grey-Court  this 
summer.  Now,  what  kind  of  a  day  is  it  ? " 

"Simply  glorious!  Isn't  it,  Tawney-eye?"  And  the 
young  lady  again  forgot  her  "papas,  proprieties,  pota- 
toes, prunes  and  prisms,"  and  dropping  down  on  the  rug, 
buried  her  face  in  the  cat's  long  silky  hair.  Then  she  re- 
appeared long  enough  to  say  : 

"You  are  such  a  comforting  person  !  I'm  so  glad  you 
were  born." 


268  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 
THE   BOSS. 

AFTER  this  statement,  so  satisfying-  to  both,  Leonore  re- 
covered her  dignity  enough  to  rise,  and  say,  "Now,  I 
want  to  pay  you  for  your  niceness.  What  do  you  wish 
to  do  ?  " 

"  Suppose  we  do  what  pleases  you." 

"No.     I  want  to  please  you." 

"  That  is  the  way  to  please  me,"  said  Peter  emphatically. 

Just  then  a  clock  struck  four.  "  I  know,"  said  Leonore. 
"Come  to  the  tea-table,  and  we'll  have  afternoon  tea 
together.  It's  the  day  of  all  others  for  afternoon  tea." 

"I  just  said  it  was  a  glorious  day." 

"  Oh,  yes.  It's  a  nice  day.  But  it's  dark  and  cold  and 
rainy  all  the  same." 

"  But  that  makes  it  all  the  better.  We  shan't  be  inter- 
rupted. " 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Leonore,  "that  Miss  De  Voe 
told  me  once  that  you  were  a  man  who  found  good  in 
everything,  and  I  see  what  she  meant." 

"  I  can't  hold  a  candle  to  Dennis.  He  says  its  '  a  foine 
day'  so  that  you  feel  that  it  really  is.  I  never  saw  him 
in  my  life,  when  it  wasn't  'a  foine  day/  I  tell  him  he 
carries  his  sunshine  round  in  his  heart/' 

"You  are  so  different,"  said  Leonore,  "from  what 
every  one  said.  I  never  knew  a  man  pay  such  nice 
compliments.  That's  the  seventh  I've  heard  you  make." 

"You  know  I'm  a  politician,  and  want  to  become 
popular." 

"Oh,  Peter  !     Will  you  let  me  ask  you  something ?  " 

"Anything,"  said  Peter,  rashly,  though  speaking  the 
absolute  truth.  Peter  just  then  was  willing  to  promise 
anything.  Perhaps  it  was  the  warm  cup  of  tea  ;  perhaps 
it  was  the  blazing  logs ;  perhaps  it  was  the  shade  of  the 
lamp,  which  cast  such  a  pleasant  rosy  tint  over  every- 
thing ;  perhaps  it  was  the  comfortable  chair ;  perhaps  it 


THE  BOSS.  269 

was  that  charming  face ;  perhaps  it  was  what  Mr.  Man- 
talini  called  the  "demd  total." 

"You  see,"  said  Leonore,  shaking  her  head  in  a  puzzled 
way,  "I've  begun  to  read  the  papers — the  political  part, 
I  mean — and  there  are  so  many  things  I  don't  understand 
which  I  want  to  ask  you  to  explain." 

"That  is  very  nice,"  said  Peter,  "because  there  area 
great  many  things  of  which  I  want  to  tell  you." 

"Goody  !  "  said  Leonore,  forgetting  again  she  was  now 
bound  to  conduct  herself  as  beiit  a  society  girl.  "And 
you'll  not  laugh  at  me  if  I  ask  foolish  questions  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  what  do  the  papers  mean  by  calling  you  a 
boss  ?  " 

"That  I  am  supposed  to  have  sufficient  political  power 
to  dictate  to  a  certain  extent."  • 

"But  don't  they  speak  of  a  boss  as  something  not 
nice  ?  "  asked  Leonore,  a  little  timidly,  as  if  afraid  of  hurt- 
ing Peter's  feelings. 

"Usually  it  is  used  as  a  stigma,"  said  Peter,  smiling. 
"At  least  by  the  kind  of  papers  you  probably  read." 

"But  you  are  not  a  bad  boss,  are  you ?  "  said  Leonore, 
very  earnestly. 

"Some  of  the  papers  say  so." 

"That's  what  surprised  me.  Of  course  I  knew  they 
were  wrong,  but  are  bosses  bad,  and  are  you  a  boss  ? " 

"You  are  asking  me  one  of  the  biggest  questions  in 
American  politics.  I  probably  can't  answer  it,  but  I'll  try 
to  show  you  why  I  can't.  Are  there  not  friends  whose 
advice  or  wish  would  influence  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  Like  you,"  said  Leonore,  giving  Peter  a  glimpse 
of  her  eyes. 

"Really,"  thought  Peter,  "if  she  does  that  often,  I 
can't  talk  abstract  politics."  Then  he  rallied  and  said  r 
4 'Well,  that  is  the  condition  of  men  as  well,  and  it  is  that 
condition,  which  creates  the  so-called  boss.  In  every 
community  there  are  men  who  influence  more  or  less  the 
rest.  It  may  be  that  one  can  only  influence  half  a  dozen 
other  intimates.  Another  may  exert  power  over  fifty.  A 
third  may  sway  a  thousand.  One  may  do  it  by  mere  phys- 
ical superiority.  Another  by  a  friendly  manner.  A  third 
by  being  better  informed.  A  fourth  by  a  deception  or  bri- 
bery, A  fifth  by  honesty.  Each  has  something  that  domir 


370  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

nates  the  weaker  men  about  him.  Take  my  ward.  Burton 
is  a  prize-fighter,  and  physically  a  splendid  man.  So  he  has 
his  little  court.  Driscoll  is  a  humorist,  and  can  talk,  and 
he  has  his  admirers.  Sloftky  is  popular  with  the  Jews, 
because  he  is  of  their  race.  Burrows  is  a  policeman,  who 
is  liked  by  the  whole  ward,  because  of  his  kindness  and 
good-nature.  So  I  could  go  on  telling  you  of  men  who 
are  a  little  more  marked  than  the  rest,  who  have  power  to 
influence  the  opinions  of  men  about  them,  and  therefore 
have  power  to  influence  votes.  That  is  the  first  step  in 
the  ladder." 

"  But  isn't  Mr.  Moriarty  one  ?  " 

"  He  comes  in  the  next  grade.  Each  of  the  men  I  have 
mentioned  can  usually  affect  an  average  of  twenty-five 
votes.  But  now  we  get  to  another  rung  of  the  ladder. 
Here  we  have  Dennis,  and  such  men  as  Blunkers,  Denton, 
Kennedy,  Schlurger  and  others.  They  not  merely  have 
their  own  set  of  followers,  but  they  have  more  or  less 
power  to  dominate  the  little  bosses  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken.  Take  Dennis  for  instance.  He  has  fifty  ad- 
herents who  stick  to  him  absolutely,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  who  listen  to  him  with  interest,  and  a  dozen  of  the 
smaller  bosses,  who  pass  his  opinions  to  their  followers. 
So  he  can  thus  have  some  effect  on  about  five  hundred 
votes.  Of  course  it  takes  more  force  and  popularity  to  do 
this  and  in  this  way  we  have  a  better  grade  of  men. " 

"  Yes.  I  like  Mr.  Moriarty,  and  can  understand  why 
others  do.  He  is  so  ugly,  and  so  honest,  and  so  jolly. 
He's  lovely." 

"Then  we  get  another  grade.  Usually  men  of  a  good 
deal  of  brain  force,  though  not  of  necessity  well  educated. 
They  influence  all  below  them  by  being  better  informed, 
and  by  being  more  far-seeing.  Such  men  as  Gallagher 
and  Dummer.  They,  too,  are  usually  in  politics  for  a  living, 
and  so  can  take  the  trouble  to  work  for  ends  for  which 
the  men  with  other  work  have  no  time.  They  don't  need 
the  great  personal  popularity  of  those  I  have  just  men- 
tioned, but  they  need  far  more  skill  and  brain.  Now  you 
can  see,  that  these  last,  in  order  to  carry  out  their  inten- 
tions, must  meet  and  try  to  arrange  to  pull  together,  for 
otherwise  they  can  do  nothing.  Naturally,  in  a  dozen  or 
twenty  men,  there  will  be  grades,  and  very  often  a  single 
man  will  be  able  to  dominate  them  all,  just  as  the 


THE  BOSS.  2Jl 

smaller  bosses  dominate  the  smaller  men.  And  this  man 
the  papers  call  a  boss  of  a  ward.  Then  when  these 
various  ward  bosses  endeavor  to  unite  for  general  pur- 
poses, the  strongest  man  will  sway  them,  and  he  is 
boss  of  the  city." 

11  And  that  is  what  you  are? '; 

"Yes.  By  that  I  mean  that  nothing  is  attempted  in 
the  ward  or  city  without  consultation  with  me.  But  of 
course  I  am  more  dependent  on  the  voters  than  they  are 
on  me,  for  if  they  choose  to  do  differently  from  what  I 
advise,  they  have  the  power,  while  I  am  helpless." 

"  You  mean  the  smaller  bosses  ?  " 

"Not  so  much  them  as  the  actual  voters.  A  few  times 
I  have  shot  right  over  the  heads  of  the  bosses  and 
appealed  directly  to  the  voters." 

"  Then  you  can  make  them  do  what  you  want  ?  " 

"Within  limits,  yes.  As  I  told  you,  I  am  absolutely 
dependent  on  the  voters.  If  they  should  defeat  what  I 
want  three  times  running,  every  one  would  laugh  at  me, 
and  my  power  would  be  gone.  So  you  see  that  a  boss  is 
only  a  boss  so  long  as  he  can  influence  votes." 

"But  they  haven't  defeated  you  ?  " 

"No,  not  yet." 

"  But  if  the  voters  took  their  opinions  from  the  other 
bosses  how  did  you  do  anything  ?  " 

"There  comes  in  the  problem  of  practical  politics. 
The  question  of  who  can  affect  the  voters  most.  Take 
my  own  ward.  Suppose  that  I  want  something  done  so 
much  that  I  insist.  And  suppose  that  some  of  the  other 
leaders  are  equally  determined  that  it  shan't  be  done. 
The  ward  splits  on  the  question  and  each  faction  tries  to 
gain  control  in  the  primary.  When  I  have  had  to  inter- 
fere, I  go  right  down  among  the  voters  and  tell  them  why 
and  what  I  want  to  do.  Then  the  men  I  have  had  to 
antagonize  do  the  same,  and  the  voters  decide  between 
us.  It  then  is  a  question  as  to  which  side  can  win  the 
majority  of  the  voters.  Because  I  have  been  very  success- 
ful in  this,  I  am  the  so-called  boss.  That  is,  I  can  make 
the  voters  feel  that  I  am  right." 

"How?" 

"  For  many  reasons.  First,  I  have  always  tried  to  tell 
the  voters  the  truth,  and  never  have  been  afraid  to  acknowl- 
edge I  was  wrong,  when  I  found  I  had  made  a  mistake, 


272  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

so  people  trust  what  I  say.  Then,  unlike  most  of  the 
leaders  in  politics,  I  am  not  trying  to  get  myself  office 
or  profit,  and  so  the  men  feel  that  I  am  disinterested. 
Then  I  try  to  be  friendly  with  the  whole  ward,  so  that  if 
I  have  to  do  what  they  don't  like,  their  personal  feeling 
for  me  will  do  what  my  arguments  never  could.  With 
these  simple,  strong-feeling,  and  unreasoning  folk,  one 
can  get  ten  times  the  influence  by  a  warm  hand-shake 
and  word  that  one  can  by  a  logical  argument.  We  are 
so  used  to  believing  what  we  read,  if  it  seems  reasonable, 
that  it  is  hard  for  us  to  understand  that  men  who  spell 
out  editorials  with  difficulty,  and  who  have  not  been 
trained  to  reason  from  facts,  are  not  swayed  by  what  to 
us  seems  an  obvious  argument.  But,  on  the  contrary,  if 
a  man  they  trust,  puts  it  in  plain  language  to  them,  they 
see  it  at  once.  I  might  write  a  careful  editorial,  and  ask 
my  ward  to  read  it,  and  unless  they  knew  I  wrote  it,  they 
probably  wouldn't  be  convinced  in  the  least.  But  let  me 
go  into  the  saloons,  and  tell  the  men  just  the  same  thing, 
and  there  isn't  a  man  who  wouldn't  be  influenced  by  it." 

"You  are  so  popular  in  the  ward? "  asked  Leonore. 

"  I  think  so.  I  find  kind  words  and  welcome  every- 
where. But  then  I  have  tried  very  hard  to  be  popular. 
I  have  endeavored  to  make  a  friend  of  every  man  in  it 
with  whom  one  could  be  friendly,  because  I  wished  to  be 
as  powerful  as  possible,  so  that  the  men  would  side  with 
me  whenever  I  put  my  foot  down  on  something  wrong. " 

"  Do  you  ever  tell  the  ward  how  they  are  to  vote  ?  " 

"I  tell  them  my  views.  But  never  how  to  vote. 
Once  I  came  very  near  it,  though." 

"How  was  that?" 

"  I  was  laid  up  for  eight  months  by  my  eyes,  part  of 
the  time  in  Paris.  The  primary  in  the  meantime  had  put 
up  a  pretty  poor  man  for  an  office.  A  fellow  who  had 
been  sentenced  for  murder,  but  had  been  pardoned  by 
political  influence.  When  I  was  able  to  take  a  hand,  I 
felt  that  I  could  do  better  by  interfering,  so  I  came  out 
for  the  Republican  candidate,  who  was  a  really  fine 
fellow.  I  tried  to  see  and  talk  to  every  man  in  the  ward, 
and  on  election  day  I  asked  a  good  many  men,  as  a  per- 
sonal favor,  to  vote  for  the  Republican,  and  my  friends 
asked  others.  Even  Dennis  Moriarty  worked  and  voted 
for  what  he  calls  a  '  dirty  Republican,'  though  he  said 


THE  BOSS.  273 

4  h«  never  thought  he'd  soil  his  hands  wid  one  av  their 
ballots.'  That  is  the  nearest  I  ever  came  to  telling  them 
how  to  vote. " 

"  And  did  they  do  as  you  asked  ?  " 

"  The  only  Republican  the  ward  has  chosen  since  1862 
was  elected  in  that  year.  It  was  a  great  surprise  to 
every  one — even  to  myself — for  the  ward  is  Democratic 
by  about  four  thousand  majority.  But  I  couldn't  do  that 
sort  of  thing  often,  for  the  men  wouldn't  stand  it.  In 
other  words,  I  can  only  do  what  I  want  myself,  by  doing 
enough  else  that  the  men  wish.  That  is,  the  more  I  can 
do  to  please  the  men,  the  more  they  yield  their  opinions 
to  mine." 

" Then  the  bosses  really  can't  do  what  they  want?  " 

"  No.  Or  at  least  not  for  long.  That  is  a  newspaper 
fallacy.  A  relic  of  the  old  idea  that  great  things  are  done 
by  one-man  power.  If  you  will  go  over  the  men  who 
are  said  to  control — the  bosses,  as  they  are  called — in  this 
city,  you  will  find  that  they  all  have  worked  their  way 
into  influence  slowly,  and  have  been  many  years  kept  in 
power,  though  they  could  be  turned  out  in  a  single  fight. 
Yet  this  power  is  obtained  only  by  the  wish  of  a  majority, 
for  the  day  they  lose  the  consent  of  a  majority  of  the 
voters  that  day  their  power  ends.  We  are  really  more 
dependent  than  the  representatives,  for  they  are  elected 
for  a  certain  time,  while  our  tenure  can  be  ended  at  any 
moment.  Why  am  I  a  power  in  my  ward?  Because  I 
am  supposed  to  represent  a  given  number  of  votes,  which 
are  influenced  by  my  opinions.  It  would  be  perfectly 
immaterial  to  my  importance  how  I  influenced  those 
votes,  so  long  as  I  could  control  them.  But  because  I 
can  influence  them,  the  other  leaders  don't  dare  to 
antagonize  me,  and  so  I  can  have  my  way  up  to  a  certain 
point  And  because  I  can  control  the  ward  I  have  made 
it  a  great  power  in  city  politics." 

"  How  did  you  do  that  ?  " 

"By  keeping  down  the  factional  feeling.  You  see 
there  are  always  more  men  struggling  for  power  or  office, 
than  can  have  it,  and  so  there  cannot  but  be  bad  blood 
between  the  contestants.  For  instance,  when  I  first 
became  interested  in  politics,  Moriarty  and  Blunkers 
were  quite  as  anxious  to  down  each  other  as  to  down  the 
Republicans.  Now  they  are  sworn  friends,  made  so  in 
18 


274  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

this  case,  by  mere  personal  liking  for  me.  Some  have 
been  quieted  in  this  way.  Others  by  being  held  in  check. 
Still  others  by  different  means.  Each  man  has  to  be 
studied  and  understood,  and  the  particular  course  taken 
which  seems  best  in  his  particular  case.  But  I  succeeded 
even  with  some  who  were  pretty  bitter  antagonists  at 
first,  and  from  being  one  of  the  most  uncertain  wards  in 
the  city,  the  sixth  has  been  known  at  headquarters  for  the 
last  five  years  as  l  old  reliability7  from  the  big  majority  it 
always  polls.  So  at  headquarters  I  am  looked  up  to  and 
consulted.  Now  do  you  understand  why  and  what  a 
boss  is  ? " 

"Yes,  Peter.     Except  why  bosses  are  bad." 

"Don't  you  see  that  it  depends  on  what  kind  of  men 
they  are,  and  what  kind  of  voters  are  back  of  them.  A 
good  man,  with  honest  votes  back  of  him,  is  a  good  boss, 
and  vice  versa. " 

"Then  I  know  you  are  a  good  boss.  It's  a  great  pity 
that  all  the  bosses  can't  be  good  ? " 

"I  have  not  found  them  so  bad.  They  are  quite  as 
honest,  unselfish,  and  reasonable  as  the  average  of  man- 
kind. Now  and  then  there  is  a  bad  man,  as  there  is  likely 
to  be  anywhere.  But  in  my  whole  political  career,  I  have 
never  known  a  man  who  could  control  a  thousand  votes 
for  five  years,  who  was  not  a  better  man,  all  in  all,  than 
the  voters  whom  he  influenced.  More  one  cannot  expect. 
The  people  are  not  quick,  but  they  find  out  a  knave  or  a 
demagogue  if  you  give  them  time. " 

"It's  the  old  saying  :  'you  can  fool  all  of  the  people, 
some  of  the  time,  and  some  of  the  people  all  of  the  time, 
but  you  can't  fool  all  of  the  people  all  of  the  time,' " 
laughed  a  voice. 

Peter  took  his  eyes  off  Leonore's  face,  where  they  had 
been  resting  restfully,  and  glanced  up.  Watts  had  entered 
the  room. 

"Go  on,"  said  Watts.  "Don't  let  me  interrupt  your 
political  disquisitions ;  I  have  only  come  in  for  a  cup  of 
tea." 

"Miss  D'Alloi  and  I  were  merely  discussing  bosses,'  ''' 
said  Peter.  "  Miss  D'Alloi,  when  women  get  the  ballot, 
as  I  hope  they  will,  I  trust  you  will  be  a  good  boss,  for  I 
am  sure  you  will  influence  a  great  many  votes." 

"  Oh  1  "  said  Leonore,  laughing,  "  I  shan't  be  a  boss  at 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT,  275 

all.     You'll  be  my  boss,  I  think,  and  I'll  always  vote  for 
you." 

Peter  thought  the  day  even  more  glorious  than  he  had 
before. 


CHAPTER  XLVL 
THE  BETTER  ELEMENT. 

THE  evening  after  this  glorious  day,  Peter  came  in  from 
his  ride,  but  instead  of  going  at  once  to  his  room,  he 
passed  down  a  little  passage,  and  stood  in  a  doorway. 

"Is  everything  p-oing  right,  Jenifer ?  "  he  queried. 

"Yissah!" 

"  The  flowers  came  from  Thorley's  ?  " 

"Yissah!" 

"And  the  candies  and  ices  from  Maillard?" 

"Yissah!" 

"And  yinfv&frappt  the  champagne  ?  " 

"Yissah?" 

"  Jenifer,  don't  put  quite  so  much  onion  juice  as  usual  in 
the  Queen  Isabella  dressing.  Ladies  don't  like  it  as  much 
as  men." 

"Yissah!  " 

"  And  you  stood  the  Burgundy  in  the  sun  ?  " 

"Yissah  !    Wha foh yo' think  I  doan  do  as  I  ginPy do ? "" 

Jenifer  was  combining  into  a  stuffing  bread  crumbs, 
chopped  broiled  oysters,  onions,  and  many  other  myste- 
rious ingredients,  and  was  becoming  irritated  at  such 
evident  doubt  of  his  abilities. 

Peter  ought  to  have  been  satisfied,  but  he  only  looked 
worried.  He  glanced  round  the  little  closet  that  served  as 
a  kitchen,  in  search  of  possible  sources  for  slips,  but  did 
not  see  them.  All  he  was  able  to  say  was,  "  That  broth 
smells  very  nice,  Jenifer." 

' '  Yissah.  Dar  ain't  nuffin  in  dat  sup  buh  a  quart  a  thick 
cream,  and  de  squeezin's  of  a  hunerd  clams,  sah.  Dat 
sup  will  make  de  angels  sorry  dey  died.  Dey'll  just  tink 
you'se  dreful  unkine  not  to  offer  dem  a  secon'  help.  Buh 
doan  yo'  do  it,  sah,  foh  when  dey  gits  to  dem  prayhens, 
dey'll  be  pow'ful  glad  yo'  didn't."  To  himself,  Jenifer 
remarked  :  "  Who  he  gwine  hab  dis  clay  ?  He  neber  so- 


276  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

anxious  befoh,  not  even  when  de  Presidint  an  Guv  not 
Pohter  dey  dun  dine  hyah." 

Peter  went  to  his  room  and,  after  a  due  course  of  club- 
bing and  tubbing,  dressed  himself  with  the  utmost  care. 
Truth  compels  the  confession  that  he  looked  in  his  glass 
for  some  minutes.  Not,  however,  apparently  with  much 
pleasure,  for  an  anxious  look  came  into  his  face,  and  he 
remarked  aloud,  as  he  turned  away,  "I  don't  look  so  old, 
but  I  once  heard  Watts  say  that  I  should  never  take  a 
prize  for  my  looks,  and  he  was  right.  I  wonder  if  she 
cares  for  handsome  men  ?  " 

Peter  forgot  his  worry  in  the  opening  of  a  box  in  the 
dining-room  and  the  taking  out  of  the  flowers.  He  placed 
the  bunches  at  the  different  places,  raising  one  of  the 
bouquets  of  violets  to  his  lips,  before  he  laid  it  down.  Then 
he  took  the  cut  flowers,  and  smilax,  and  spread  them 
loosely  in  the  centre  of  the  little  table,  which  otherwise 
had  nothing  on  it,  except  the  furnishings  placed  at  each 
seat.  After  that  he  again  kissed  a  bunch  of  violets. 
History  doesn  t  state  whether  it  was  the  same  bunch. 
Peter  must  have  been  very  fond  of  flowers  ! 

"  Peter,"  called  a  voice. 

11  Is  that  you,  Le  Grand?     Go  right  into  my  room." 

' '  I've  done  that  already.  You  see  I  feel  at  home.  How 
are  you  ? "  he  continued,  as  Peter  joined  him  in  the  study. 

"  As  always." 

"  I  thought  I  would  run  in  early,  so  as  to  have  a  bit  of 
you  before  the  rest.  Peter,  here's  a  letter  from  Muller.  He's 
got  that  '  Descent'  in  its  first  state,  in  the  most  brilliant 
condition.  You  had  better  get  it,  and  trash  your  present 
impression.  It  has  always  looked  cheap  beside  the  rest. " 

"  Very  well.     Will  you  attend  to  it  ?  " 

Just  then  came  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  rustle  of 
draperies  in  the  little  hall. 

"  Hello!  Ladies?"  said  Le  Grand.  "This  is  to  be 
one  of  what  Lispenard  calls  your  *  often,  frequently,  only 
once '  affairs,  is  it  ? " 

"  I'm  afraid  we  are  early,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "  We  did 
not  know  how  much  time  to  allow. " 

"No.     Such  old  friends  cannot  come  too  soon." 

"And  as  it  is,  I'm  really  starved,"  said  another  person- 
age, shaking  hands  with  Peter  as  if  she  had  not  seen  him 
for  a  twelve-month  instead  of  parting  with  him  but  two 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  277 

hours  before.  "  What  an  appetite  riding  in  the  Park  does 
give  one  !  Especially  when  afterwards  you  drive,  and 
drive,  and  drive,  over  New  York  stones." 

"  Ah,"  cried  Madame.     "  Cest  ires  bien  /  " 

"  Isn't  it  jolly?  "  responded  Leonore. 

i(  But  it  is  not  American.      It  is  Parisian." 

"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't !     It's  all  American.     Isn't  it,  Peter?  " 

But  Peter  was  telling  Jenifer  to  hasten  the  serving  of 
dinner.  So  Leonore  had  to  fight  her  country's  battles  by 
herself. 

"What's  all  this  to-day's  papers  are  saying,  Peter ?" 
asked  Watts,  as  soon  as  they  were  seated. 

"  That's  rather  a  large  subject  even  for  a  slow  dinner." 

"  I  mean  about  the  row  in  the  Democratic  organization 
over  the  nomination  for  governor  ?  " 

"The  papers  seem  to  know  more  about  it  than  I  do," 
said  Peter  calmly. 

Le  Grand  laughed.  "  Miss  De  Voe,  Ogden,  Rivington 
— all  of  us,  have  tried  to  get  Peter,  first  and  last,  to  talk 
politics,  but  not  a  fact  do  we  get.  They  say  it's  his 
ability  to  hold  his  tongue  which  made  Costell  trust  him 
and  push  him,  and  that  that  was  the  reason  he  was  chosen 
to  fill  Costell's  place." 

"I  don't  fill  his  place,"  said  Peter.  "No  one  can  do 
that.  I  merely  succeeded  him.  And  Miss  D'Alloi  will 
tell  you  that  the  papers  calling  me  *  Taciturnity  Junior ' 
is  a  libel.  Am  I  not  a  talker,  Miss  D'Alloi?  " 

"I  really  can't  find  out,"  responded  Leonore,  with  a 
puzzled  look.  "  People  say  you  are  not." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  fail  me  after  the  other  night. " 

" Ah,"  said  madame.  "The  quiet  men  are  the  great 
men.  Look  at  the  French." 

"Oh,  madame  !  "  exclaimed  Leonore. 

"  You  are  joking  "  cried  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"That's  delicious,"  laughed  Watts. 

"  Whew,"  said  Le  Grand,  under  his  breath. 

"Ah!  Why  do  you  cry  out?  Mr.  Stirling,  am  I  not 
right  ?  "  Madame  appealed  to  the  one  face  on  which  no 
amusement  or  skepticism  was  shown. 

"  I  think  it  is  rather  dangerous  to  ascribe  any  particular 
trait  to  any  nationality.  It  is  usually  misleading.  But 
most  men  who  think  much,  talk  little,  and  the  French 
have  many  thinkers  " 


278  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

t(  I  always  liked  Von  Moltke,  just  for  it  being  said  of 
him  that  he  could  be  silent  in  seven  languages,"  said 
Le  Grand. 

"Yes,"  said  Leonore.  "It's  so  restful.  We  crossed 
on  the  steamer  with  a  French  Marquis  who  can  speak 
•six  languages,  and  can't  say  one  thing  worth  listening  to 
in  any." 

Peter  thought  the  soup  all  Jenifer  had  cracked  it  up  to 
be. 

"Peter,"  said  Leonore,  turning  to  him,  "Mr.  Le  Grand 
said  that  you  never  will  talk  politics  with  anybody. 
That  doesn't  include  me,  of  course  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Peter  promptly. 

"I  thought  it  didn't,"  said  Leonore,  her  eyes  dancing 
with  pleasure,  however,  at  the  reply.  ' l  We  had  Mr.  Pell 
to  lunch  to-day  and  I  spoke  to  him  as  to  what  you  said 
about  the  bosses,  and  he  told  me  that  bosses  could  never 
be  really  good,  unless  the  better  element  were  allowed  to 
vote,  and  not  the  saloon-keepers  and  roughs.  I  could 
see  he  was  right,  at  once." 

"From  his  point  of  view.  Or  rather  the  view  of  his 
-class. " 

"Don't  you  think  so?" 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Broadly  speaking,  all  persons  of  sound  mind  are  en- 
titled to  vote  on  the  men  and  the  laws  which  are  to  govern 
them.  Aside  from  this,  every  ounce  of  brain  or  experience 
you  can  add  to  the  ballot,  makes  it  more  certain.  Sup- 
pose you  say  that  half  the  people  are  too  ignorant  to  vote 
sensibly.  Don't  you  see  that  there  is  an  even  chance,  at 
least,  that  they'll  vote  rightly,  and  if  the  wrong  half  car- 
ries the  election,  it  is  because  more  intelligent  people 
have  voted  wrongly,  have  not  voted,  or  have  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  try  and  show  the  people  the  right  way,  but 
have  left  them  to  the  mercies  of  the  demagogue.  If  we 
grant  that  every  man  who  takes  care  of  himself  has  some 
brain,  and  some  experience,  his  vote  is  of  some  value, 
even  if  not  a  high  one.  Suppose  we  have  an  eagle,  and 
a  thousand  pennies.  Are  we  any  better  off  by  tossing 
away  the  coppers,  because  each  is  worth  so  little.  That 
is  why  I  have  always  advocated  giving  the  franchise  to 
women.  If  we  can  add  ten  million  voters  to  an  election, 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  279 

we  have  added  just  so  much  knowledge  to  it,  and  made 
it  just  so  much  the  harder  to  mislead  or  buy  enough  votes 
to  change  results." 

"You  evidently  believe,r'<  said  Watts,  "in  the  saying, 
'Everybody  knows  more  than  anybody  ? ' ' 

Peter  had  forgotten  all  about  his  company  in  his  interest 
over — over  the  franchise.  So  he  started  slightly  at  this 
question,  and  looked  up  from — from  his  subject. 

"Yes,"  said  Le  Grand.  "We've  been  listening  and 
longing  to  ask  questions.  When  we  see  such  a  fit  of 
loquacity,  we  want  to  seize  the  opportunity." 

"No,"  said  Leonore,  "I  haven't  finished.  Tell  me. 
Can't  you  make  the  men  do  what  you  want,  so  as  to  have 
them  choose  only  the  best  men  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  the  actual  power  I  would  not,"  said  Peter. 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  would  not  dare  to  become  responsible  for 

so  much,  and  because  a  government  of  the  '  best '  men  is    | 
not  an  American  government." 

"Why  not?" 

"  That  is  the  aristocratic  idea.  That  the  better  element, 
so  called,  shall  compel  the  masses  to  be  good,  whether 
they  wish  it  or  no.  Just  as  one  makes  a  child  behave 
without  regard  to  its  own  desires.  With  grown  men, 
such  a  system  only  results  in  widening  the  distance 
between  the  classes  and  masses,  making  the  latter  more 
dependent  and  unthinking.  Whereas,  if  we  make  every 
man  vote  he  must  think  a  little  for  himself,  because  dif- 
ferent people  advise  nim  contrarily,  and  thus  we  bring 
him  nearer  to  the  more  educated.  He  even  educates  him- 
self by  his  own  mistakes ;  for  every  bad  man  elected,  and 
every  bad  law  passed,  make  him  suffer  the  results,  and 
he  can  only  blame  himself.  Of  course  we  don't  get  as 
good  a  government  or  laws,  but  then  we  have  other  off- 
setting advantages." 

"What  are  those?* 

"We  get  men  and  laws  which  are  the  wish  of  the 
majority.  Such  are  almost  self-supporting  and  self- 
administering.  It  is  not  a  mere  combination  of  words, 
printing-ink,  and  while  paper  which  makes  a  law.  It 
is  the  popular  sentiment  back  of  it  which  enforces  it, 
and  unless  a  law  is  the  wish  of  a  majority  of  the  people 
who  are  to  be  governed  by  it,  it  is  either  a  dead  letter, 


28o  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

or  must  be  enforced  by  elaborate  police  systems,  sup- 
ported oftentimes  with  great  armies.  Even  then  it  does 
not  succeed,  if  the  people  choose  to  resist.  Look  at  the 
attempt  to  govern  Ireland  by  force,  in  the  face  of  popular 
sentiment.  Then,  too,  we  get  a  stability  almost  un- 
known in  governments  which  do  not  conform  to  the 
people.  This  country  has  altered  its  system  of  govern- 
ment less  than  any  other  great  country  in  the  last  hun- 
dred years.  And  there  is  less  socialistic  legislation  and 
propaganda  here  than  anywhere  else.  That  is,  less  dis- 
content." 

"But,  Peter,  if  the  American  people  are  as  sensible  as 
you  think,  how  do  you  account  for  the  kind  of  men  who 
exercise  control  ?  "  said  Le  Grand. 

"  By  better  men  not  trying." 

"But  we  have  reform  movements  all  the  time,  led  by 
good  men.  Why  aren't  these  men  elected  ?  " 

"Who  are  as  absolutely  inexperienced  and  blind  as  to 
the  way  to  influence  votes,  as  well  can  be.  Look  at  it, 
as  a  contest,  without  regard  to  the  merit  of  the  cause. 
On  one  side  we  have  bosses,  who  know  and  understand 
the  men  in  their  wards,  have  usually  made  themselves 
popular,  are  in  politics  for  a  living,  have  made  it  a  life- 
study,  and  by  dear  experience  have  learned  that  they 
must  surrender  their  own  opinions  in  order  to  produce 
harmony  and  a  solid  vote.  The  reformer,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  usually  a  man  who  has  other  occupations,  andr  if 
I  may  say  so,  has  usually  met  with  only  partial  success 
in  them.  By  that  I  mean  that  the  really  successful  mer- 
chant, or  banker,  or  professional  man  cannot  take  time  to 
work  in  politics,  and  so  only  the  less  successful  try. 
Each  reformer,  too,  is  sure  that  he  himself  is  right,  and 
as  his  bread  and  butter  is  not  in  the  issue,  he  quarrels  to 
his  heart's  content  with  his  associates,  so  that  they  rarely 
can  unite  all  their  force.  Most  of  the  reform  movements 
in  this  city  have  been  attempted  in  a  way  that  is  simply 
laughable.  What  should  we  say  if  a  hundred  busy  men 
were  to  get  together  to-morrow,  and  decide  that  they 
would  open  a  great  bank,  to  fight  the  clearing-house 
banks  of  New  York?  Yet  this,  in  effect,  is  what  the 
reformers  have  done  over  and  over  again  in  politics. 
They  say  to  the  men  who  have  been  kept  in  power  for 
years  by  the  people,  '  You  are  scoundrels.  The  people 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  281 

who  elected  you  are  ignorant.  We  know  how  to  do  it 
better.  Now  we'll  turn  you  out. '  In  short,  they  tell  the 
majority  they  are  fools,  but  ask  their  votes.  The  average 
reformer  endorses  thoroughly  the  theory  '  that  every  man 
is  as  good  as  another,  and  a  little  better/  And  he  himself 
always  is  the  better  man.  The  people  won't  stand  that. 
The  *  holier  than  thou ;  will  defeat  a  man  quicker  in  this 
country  than  will  any  rascality  he  may  have  done/' 

' '  But  don't  you  think  the  reformer  is  right  in  principle  ? J> 

"In  nine  cases  out  often.  But  politics  does  not  con- 
sist in  being  right.  It's  in  making  other  people  think  you 
are.  Men  don't  like  to  be  told  that  they  are  ;griorant  and 
wrong,  and  this  assumption  is  the  basis  of  most  of  the 
so-called  educational  campaigns.  To  give  impetus  to  a 
new  movement  takes  immense  experience,  shrewdness, 
tact,  and  many  other  qualities.  The  people  are  obstruc- 
tive— that  is  conservative — in  most  things,  and  need 
plenty  of  time." 

"  Unless  you  tell  them  what  they  are  to  do,"  laughed 
Watts.  "  Then  they  know  quick  enough." 

"Well,  -that  has  taken  them  fifteen  years  to  learn. 
Don't  you  see  how  absurd  it  is  to  suppose  that  the  people 
are  going  to  take  the  opinions  of  the  better  element  off- 
hand? At  the  end  of  a  three  months' campaign  ?  Men 
have  come  into  my  ward  and  spoken  to  empty  halls  ; 
they've  flooded  it  with  campaign  literature,  which  has 
served  to  light  fires  ;  their  papers  have  argued,  and 
nobody  read  them.  But  the  ward  knows  me.  There's 
hardly  a  voter  who  doesn't.  They've  tested  me.  Most 
of  them  like  me.  I've  lived  among  them  for  years.  I've 
gone  on  their  summer  excursions.  I've  talked  with  them 
all  over  the  district.  I  have  helped  them  in  their  troubles. 
I  have  said  a  kind  word  over  their  dead.  I'm  godfather 
to  many.  With  others  I've  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder 
when  the  bullets  were  flying.  Why,  the  voters  who  were 
children  when  I  first  came  here,  with  whom  I  use  to  sit  in 
the  angle,  are  almost  numerous  enough  now  to  carry  an 
election  as  I  advise.  Do  you  suppose,  because  speakers, 
unknown  to  them,  say  I'm  wrong,  and  because  the  three- 
cent  papers,  which  they  never  see,  abuse  me,  that  they 
are  going  to  turn  from  me  unless  I  make  them  ?  That  is 
the  true  secret  of  the  failure  of  reformers.  A  logical  argu- 
ment is  all  right  in  a  court  of  appeals,  but  when  it  comes 


282  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

to  swaying1  five  thousand  votes,  give  me  five  thousand 
loving  hearts  rather  than  five  thousand  logical  reasons." 

11  Yet  you  have  carried  reforms." 

"  I  have  tried,  but  always  in  a  practical  way.  That  is, 
by  not  antagonizing  the  popular  men  in  politics,  but  by 
becoming  one  of  them  and  making  them  help  me.  I 
have  gained  political  power  by  recognizing  that  I  could 
only  have  my  own  way  by  making  it  suit  the  voters. 
You  see  there  are  a  great  many  methods  of  doing 
about  the  same  thing.  And  the  boss  who  does  the 
most  things  that  the  people  want,  can  do  the  most  things 
that  the  Decple  don't  want.  Every  time  I  have  surren- 
dered my  own  wishes,  and  done  about  what  the  people 
desire,  I  have  added  to  my  power,  and  so  have  been  able 
to  do  something  that  the  people  or  politicians  do  not  care 
about  or  did  not  like." 

"And  as  a  result  you  are  called  all  sorts  of  names." 

"  Yes.  The  papers  call  me  a  boss.  If  the  voters  didn't 
agree  with  me,  they  would  call  me  a  reformer." 

"But,  Peter,"  said  Le  Grand,  "would  you  not  like  to 
see  such  a  type  of  man  as  George  William  Curtis  in 
office?" 

"Mr.  Curtis  probably  stood  for  the  noblest  political 
ideas  this  country  has  ever  produced.  But  he  held  a 
beacon  only  to  a  small  class.  A  man  who  writes  from 
an  easy-chair,  will  only  sway  easy-chair  people.  And 
easy-chair  people  never  carried  an  election  in  this  country, 
and  never  will.  This  country  cannot  have  a  government 
of  the  best.  It  will  always  be  a  government  of  the  aver- 
age. Mr.  Curtis  was  only  a  leader  to  his  own  grade,  just 
as  Tim  Sullivan  is  the  leader  of  his.  Mr.  Curtis,  in  his 
editorials,  spoke  the  feelings  of  one  element  in  America. 
Sullivan,  in  Germania  Hall,  voices  another.  Each  is  rep- 
resentative, the  one  of  five  per  cent,  of  New  York  ;  the 
other  of  ninety-five  per  cent.  If  the  American  people 
have  decided  one  thing,  it  is  that  they  will  not  be  taken 
care  of,  nor^coercively  ruled,  by  their  better  element,  or 
minorities." 

"Yet  you  will  acknowledge  that  Curtis  ought  to  rule, 
rather  than  Sullivan  ? " 

"Not  if  our  government  is  to  be  representative.  I 
need  not  say  that  I  wish  such  a  type  as  Mr.  Curtis  was 
representative." 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  283 

"  I  suppose  if  he  had  tried  to  be  a  boss  he  would  have 
failed  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  For  it  requires  as  unusual  a  combination 
of  qualities  to  be  a  successful  boss,  as  to  be  a  successful 
merchant  or  banker.  Yet  one  cannot  tell.  I  myself  have 
never  been  able  to  say  what  elements  make  a  boss,  ex- 
cept that  he  must  be  in  sympathy  with  the  men  whom 
he  tries  to  guide,  and  that  he  must  be  meeting  them. 
Mr.  Curtis  had  a  broad,  loving  nature  and  sympathies, 
and  if  the  people  had  discovered  them,  they  would  have 
liked  him.  But  the  reserve  which  comes  with  culture 
makes  one  largely  conceal  one's  true  feelings.  Super-re- 
finement puts  a  man  out  of  sympathy  with  much  that  is 
basic  in  humanity,  and  it  needs  a  great  love,  or  a  great 
sacrifice  of  feeling,  to  condone  it.  It  is  hard  work  for 
what  Watts  calls  a  tough,  and  such  a  man,  to  understand 
and  admire  one  another." 

"But  don't  you  think,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  "that  the 
people  of  our  class  are  better  and  finer  ?  " 

"The  expression  'noblesse  oblige'  shows  that, "said 
madame. 

"  My  experience  has  led  me  to  think  otherwise,"  said 
Peter.  "Of  course  there  is  a  difference  of  standards,  of 
ideals,  and  of  education,  in  people,  and  therefore  there 
are  differences  in  conduct.  But  for  their  knowledge  of 
what  is  right  and  wrong,  I  do  not  think  the  so-called  bet- 
ter classes,  which  should,  in  truth,  be  called  the  prosper- 
ous classes,  live  up  to  their  own  standards  of  right  any 
more  than  do  the  poor." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  draw  it  mild.  At  least  exclude  the 
criminal  classes,"  cried  Watts.  "They  know  better." 

"We  all  know  better.  But  we  don't  live  up  to  our 
knowledge.  I  crossed  on  one  of  the  big  Atlantic  liners 
lately,  with  five  hundred  other  saloon  passengers.  They 
were  naturally  people  of  intelligence,  and  presumably  of 
easy  circumstances.  Yet  at  least  half  of  those  people 
were  plotting  to  rob  our  government  of  money  by  con- 
triving plans  to  avoid  paying  duties  truly  owed.  To  do 
this  all  of  them  had  to  break  our  laws,  and  in  most  cases 
had,  in  addition,  to  lie  deliberately.  Many  of  them  were 
planning  to  accomplish  this  theft  by  the  bribery  of  the 
custom-house  inspectors,  thus  not  merely  making  thieves 
of  themselves,  but  bribing  other  men  to  do  wrong.  In 


r« 


L 


284  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

this  city  I  can  show  you  blocks  so  densely  inhabited  that 
they  are  election  districts  in  themselves.  Blocks  in  which 
twenty  people  live  and  sleep  in  a  single  room,  year 
after  year ;  where  the  birth  of  a  little  life  into  the  world 
means  that  all  must  eat  less  and  be  less  warm ;  where 
man  and  woman,  old  and  young,  must  shiver  in  winter, 
and  stifle  in  summer ;  where  there  is  not  room  to  bury 
the  people  who  live  in  the  block  within  the  ground 
on  which  they  dwell.  But  I  cannot  find  you,  in  the 
poorest  and  vilest  parts  of  this  city,  any  block  where  the 
percentage  of  liars  and  thieves  and  bribe-givers  is  as  large  j 
as  was  that  among  the  first-class  passengers  of  that  float- 
ing palace.  Each  condition  of  society  has  its  own  mis- 
doings, and  I  believe  varies  little  in  the  percentage  of 
wrong-doers  to  the  whole." 

"To  hear  Peter  talk  you  would  think  the  whole  of  us 
ought  to  be  sentenced  to  life  terms,"  laughed  Watts.  "I 
believe  it's  only  an  attempt  on  his  part  to  increase  the 
practice  of  lawyers/' 

"Do  you  really  think  people  are  so  bad,  Peter?  "  asked 
Leon  ore,  sadly. 

'  *  No.  I  have  not,  ten  times  in  my  life,  met  a  man  whom 
I  should  now  call  bad.  I  have  met  men  whom  I  thought 
so,  but  when  I  knew  them  better  I  found  the  good  in 
them  more  than  balancing  the  evil.  Our  mistake  is  in 
supposing  that  some  men  are  'good'  and  others  'bad/ 
and  that  a  sharp  line  can  be  drawn  between  them.  The 
truth  is,  that  every  man  has  both  qualities  in  him  and 
in  very  few  does  the  evil  overbalance  the  good.  I 
marvel  at  the  goodness  I  find  in  humanity,  when  I  see 
the  temptation  and  opportunity  there  is  to  do  wrong/' 

"Some  men  are  really  depraved,  though/'  said  Mrs. 
D'Alloi. 

"  Yes,"  said  madame.      "  Think  of  those  strikers  !  " 

Peter  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  pass  through  him,  but  he 
did  not  show  it.  "Let  me  tell  you  something  in  con- 
nection with  that.  A  high-light  in  place  of  a  dark  shadow. 
There  was  an  attempt  to  convict  some  of  the  strikers,  but 
it  failed,  for  want  of  positive  evidence.  The  moral  proof, 
however,  against  a  fellow  named  Connelly  was  so  strong 
that  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  guilty.  Two 
years  later  that  man  started  out  in  charge  of  a  long 
express,  up  a  seven-mile  grade,  where  one  of  our  rail- 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  285 

roads  crosses  the  Alleghanies.  By  the  lay  of  the  land 
every  inch  of  that  seven  miles  of  track  can  be  seen 
throughout  its  entire  length,  and  when  he  had  pulled  half 
way  up,  he  saw  a  section  of  a  freight  train  coming  clown 
the  grade  at  a  tremendous  speed.  A  coupling  had 
broken,  and  this  part  of  the  train  was  without  a  man  to 
put  on  the  brakes.  To  go  on  was  death.  To  stand  still 
was  the  same.  No  speed  which  he  could  give  his  train 
by  backing  would  enable  it  to  escape  those  uncontrolled 
cars.  He  sent  his  fireman  back  to  the  first  car,  with 
orders  to  uncouple  the  engine.  He  whistled  '  on  brakes ' 
to  his  train,  so  that  it  should  be  held  on  the  grade  safely. 
And  he,  and  the  engine  alone,  went  on  up  that  grade,  and 
met  that  flying  mass  of  freight.  He  saved  two  hundred 
people's  lives.  Yet  that  man,  two  years  before,  had 
tried  to  burn  alive  forty  of  his  fellow-men.  Was  that  man 
good  or  bad  ?  " 

"  Really,  chum,  if  you  ask  it  as  a  conundrum,  I  give  it 
up.  But  there  are  thoroughly  and  wholly  good  things  in 
this  world,  and  one  of  them  is  this  stuffing.  Would  it  be 
possible  for  a  fellow  to  have  a  second  help  ? " 

Peter  smiled.  "  Jenifer  always  makes  the  portions 
according  to  what  is  to  follow,  and  I  don't  believe  he'll 
think  you  had  better.  Jenifer,  can  Mr.  D'Alloi  have 
some  more  stuffing  ? " 

"Yissah,"  said  Jenifer,  grinning  the  true  darkey  grin, 
"if  de  gentmun  want  't  sell  his  ap'tite  foh  a  mess  ob 
potash."' 

"Never  mind,"  said  Watts.  "I'm  not  a  dyspeptic, 
and  so  don't  need  potash.  But  you  might  wrap  the  rest 
up  in  a  piece  of  newspaper,  and  I'll  take  it  home." 

"  Peter,  you  must  have  met  a  great  many  men  in  politics 
whom  you  knew  to  be  dishonest  ? "  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"No.  I  have  known  few  men  whom  I  could  call 
dishonest.  But  then  I  make  a  great  distinction  between 
the  doer  of  a  dishonest  act  and  a  dishonest  man." 

"That  is  what  the  English  call  'a  fine-spun'  dis- 
tinction, I  think,"  said  madame. 

"I  hope  not.  A  dishonest  man  I  hold  to  be  one  who 
works  steadily  and  persistently  with  bad  means  and 
motives.  But  there  are  many  men  whose  lives  tell  far 
more  for  good  than  for  evil  in  the  whole,  yet  who  are  not 
above  doing  wrong  at  moments  or  under  certain  circum* 


2S6  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

stances.  This  man  will  lie  under  given  conditions  or 
temptations.  Another  will  bribe,  if  the  inducement  is 
strong  enough.  A  third  will  merely  trick.  Almost  every 
man  has  a  weak  spot  somewhere.  Yet  why  let  this  one 
weakness — a  partial  moral  obliquity  or  imperfection — 
make  us  cast  him  aside  as  useless  and  evil.  As  soon  say 
that  man  physically  is  spoiled,  because  he  is  near-sighted, 
lame  or  stupid.  If  we  had  our  choice  between  a  new, 
bright,  keen  tool,  or  a  worn,  dull  one,  of  poor  material, 
we  should  not  hesitate  which  to  use.  But  if  we  only 
have  the  latter,  how  foolish  to  refuse  to  employ  it  as  we 
may,  because  we  know  there  are  in  the  world  a  few 
better  ones." 

"Is  not  condoning  a  man's  sins,  by  failing  to  blame 
him,  direct  encouragement  to  them  ?  "  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"One  need  not  condone  the  sin.  My  rule  has  been, 
in  politics,  or  elsewhere,  to  fight  dishonesty  wherever  I 
found  it.  But  I  try  to  fight  the  act,  not  the  man.  And  if 
I  find  the  evil  done  beyond  hope  of  correction,  I  do  not 
antagonize  the  doer  of  it.  More  can  be  done  by  amity 
and  forbearance  than  by  embittering  and  alienating. 
Man  is  not  bettered  by  being  told  that  he  is  bad.  I  had 
an  alderman  in  here  three  or  four  days  ago  who  was  up 
to  mischief.  I  could  have  called  him  a  scoundrel,  with- 
out telling  him  untruth.  But  I  didn't.  I  told  him  what  I 
thought  was  right,  in  a  friendly  way,  and  succeeded  in 
straightening  him  out,  so  that  he  dropped  his  intention, 
yet  went  away  my  friend.  If  I  had  quarrelled  with  him, 
we  should  have  parted  company,  he  would  have  done 
the  wrong,  I  should  have  fought  him  when  election  time 
came — and  defeated  him.  But  he,  and  probably  fifty  of 
his  adherents  in  the  ward  would  have  become  my  bitter 
enemies,  and  opposed  everything  I  tried  in  the  future. 
If  I  quarrelled  with  enough  such  men,  I  should  in 
time  entirely  lose  my  influence  in  the  ward,  or  have  it 
generally  lessened.  But  by  dealing  as  a  friend  with  him, 
I  actually  prevented  his  doing  what  he  intended,  and  we 
shall  continue  to  work  together.  Of  course  a  man  can 
be  so  bad  that  this  course  is  impossible,  but  they  are  as 
few  in  polit'cs  as  they  are  elsewhere." 

"Taciturnity  Stirling  in  his  great  circus  feat  of  riding  a 
whole  ward  at  once,"  said  Watts. 

"I  don't  claim  that   I'm  right,"  said  Peter.      "  I  once 


THE  BETTER  ELEMENT.  287 

thought  very  differently.  I  started  out  very  hotly  as  a 
reformer  when  I  began  life.  But  I  have  learned  that 
humanity  is  not  reformed  with  a  club,  and  that  if  most 
people  gave  the  energy  they  spend  in  reforming  the  world, 
or  their  friends,  to  reforming  themselves,  there  would  be 
no  need  of  reformers." 

"The  old  English  saying  that  'people  who  can't  mind 
their  own  business  invariably  mind  some  one's  else/  seems 
applicable/'  said  Watts. 

"  But  is  it  not  very  humiliating  to  you  to  have  to  be 
friends  with  such  men  ?  "  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"You  know  Mr.  Drewitt?  "  asked  Peter. 

"Yes,"  said  all  but  madame. 

"  Do  you  take  pleasure  in  knowing  him  ?  " 

"Of  course/'  said  Watts.  "He's  very  amusing  and  a 
regular  parlor  pet. " 

"That  is  the  reason  I  took  him.  For  ten  years  that 
man  was  notoriously  one  of  the  worst  influences  in  New 
York  State  politics.  At  Albany,  in  the  interest  of  a  great 
corporation,  he  was  responsible  for  every  job  and  bit  of 
lobbying  done  in  its  behalf.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  he 
really  bribed  men  himself,  for  he  had  lieutenants  for  the 
actual  dirty  work,  but  every  dollar  spent  passed  through 
his  hands,  and  he  knew  for  what  purpose  it  was  used.  At 
the  end  of  that  time,  so  well  had  he  done  his  work,  that 
he  was  made  president  of  the  corporation.  Because  of 
that  position,  and  because  he  is  clever,  New  York  society 
swallowed  him  and  has  ever  since  delighted  to  fSte  him. 
I  find  it  no  harder  to  shake  hands  and  associate  with  the 
men  he  bribed,  than  you  do  to  shake  hands  and  associate 
with  the  man  who  gave  the  bribe." 

"Even  supposing  the  great  breweries,  and  railroads, 
and  other  interests  to  be  chiefly  responsible  for  bribery, 
that  makes  it  all  the  more  necessary  to  elect  men  above 
the  possibility  of  being  bribed,"  said  Le  Grand.  "Why 
not  do  as  they  do  in  Parliament  ?  Elect  only  men  of  such 
high  character  and  wealth,  that  money  has  no  temptation 
for  them." 

"The  rich  man  is  no  better  than  the  poor  man,  except 
that  in  place  of  being  bribed  by  other  men's  money,  he 
allows  his  own  money  to  bribe  him.  Look  at  the  course 
of  the  House  of  Lords  on  the  corn-laws.  The  slave- 
holders' course  on  secession.  The  millionaire  silver  sena- 


288  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

tors'  course  on  silver.  The  one  was  willing  to  make  ever}* 
poor  man  in  England  pay  a  half  more  for  his  bread  than 
need  be,  in  order  that  land  might  rent  for  higher  prices. 
The  slave-owner  was  willing  to  destroy  his  own  country, 
rather  than  see  justice  done.  The  last  are  willing  to  force 
a  great  commercial  panic,  ruining  hundreds  and  throwing 
thousands  out  of  employment,  if  they  can  only  get  a  few 
cents  more  per  ounce  for  their  silver.  Were  they  voting 
honestly  in  the  interest  of  their  fellow-men  ?  Or  were 
their  votes  bribed  ?  " 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  rose,  saying,  "  Peter.  We  came  early 
and  we  must  go  early.  I'm  afraid  we've  disgraced  our- 
selves both  ways." 

Peter  went  down  with  them  to  their  carriage.  He  said 
to  Leonore  in  the  descent,  "I'm  afraid  the  politics  were 
rather  dull  to  you.  I  lectured  because  I  wanted  to  make 
some  things  clear  to  you." 

"  Why  ?  "  questioned  Leonore. 

"Because,  in  the  next  few  months  you'll  see  a  great 
deal  about  bosses  in  the  papers,  and  I  don't  want  you  to 
think  so  badly  of  us  as  many  do." 

"  I  shan't  think  badly  of  you,  Peter,"  said  Leonore,  in 
the  nicest  tone. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Peter.  "And  if  you  see  things 
said  of  me  that  trouble  you,  will  you  ask  me  about 
them  ? " 

"  Yes.     But  I  thought  you  wouldn't  talk  politics  ?  " 

"I  will  talk  with  you,  because,  you  know,  friends  must 
tell  each  other  everything." 

When  Leonore  had  settled  back  in  the  carriage  for  the 
long  drive,  she  cogitated  :  "  Mr.  Le  Grand  said  that  he 
and  Miss  De  Voe,  and  Mr.  Ogden  had  all  tried  to  get 
Peter  to  talk  about  politics,  but  that  he  never  would 
Yet,  he's  known  them  for  years,  and  is  great  friends  with 
them.  It's  very  puzzling  !  " 

Probably  Leonore  was  thinking  of  American  politics* 


THE  BLUE-PETER.  289 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 
THE    BLUE- PETER. 

LEONORE'S  puzzle  went  on  increasing  in  complexity,  but 
there  is  a  limit  to  all  intricacy,  and  after  a  time  Leonore 
began  to  get  an  inkling  of  the  secret.  She  first  noticed 
that  Peter  seemed  to  spend  an  undue  amount  of  time  with 
her.  He  not  merely  turned  up  in  the  Park  daily,  but 
they  were  constantly  meeting  elsewhere.  Leonore  went 
to  a  gallery.  There  was  Peter  !  She  went  to  a  concert. 
Ditto,  Peter !  She  visited  the  flower-show.  So  did 
Peter  !  She  came  out  of  church.  Behold  Peter  !  In  each 
case  with  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  see  her  home.  At 
first  Leonore  merely  thought  these  meetings  were  coinci- 
dences, but  their  frequency  soon  ended  this  theory,  and 
then  Leonore  noticed  that  Peter  had  a  habit  of  question- 
ing her  about  her  plans  beforehand,  and  of  evidently 
shaping  his  accordingly. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Peter  seemed  to  be  constantly  trying 
to  get  her  to  spend  time  with  him.  Though  the  real 
summer  was  fast  coming,  he  had  another  dinner.  He  had 
a  box  at  the  theatre.  He  borrowed  a  drag  from  Mr.  Pell, 
and  took  them  all  up  for  a  lunch  at  Mrs.  Costell's  in 
Westchester.  Then  nothing  would  do  but  to  have 
another  drive,  ending  in  a  dinner  at  the  Country  Club. 

Flowers,  too,  seemed  as  frequent  as  their  meetings. 
Peter  had  always  smiled  inwardly  at  bribing  a  girl's  love 
with  flowers  and  bon-bons,  but  he  had  now  discovered 
that  flowers  are  just  the  thing  to  send  a  girl,  if  you  love 
her,  and  that  there  is  no  bribing  about  it.  So  none  could 
be  too  beautiful  and  costly  for  his  purse.  Then  Leonore 
wanted  a  dog — a  mastiff.  The  legal  practice  of  the 
great  firm  and  the  politics  of  the  city  nearly  stopped  till 
the  finest  of  its  kind  had  been  obtained  for  her. 

Another  incriminating  fact  came  to  her  through  Dorothy. 

"I  had  a  great  surprise  to-day,"  she  told  Leonore. 
"One  that  fills  me  with  delight,  and  that  will  please  you." 

"What  is  that?* 


290  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Peter  asked  me  at  dinner,  if  we  weren't  to  have  Anneke's 
house  at  Newport  for  the  summer,  and  when  I  said  'yes/ 
he  told  me  that  if  I  would  save  a  room  for  him,  he  would 
come  down  Friday  nights  and  stay  over  Sunday,  right 
through  the  summer.  He  has  been  a  simply  impossible 
man  hitherto  to  entice  into  a  visit.  Ray  and  I  felt  like 
giving  three  cheers." 

"He  seemed  glad  enough  to  be  invited  to  visit  Grey- 
Court,  "  thought  Leonore. 

But  even  without  all  this,  Peter  carried  the  answer  to 
the  puzzle  about  with  him  in  his  own  person.  Leonore 
could  not  but  feel  the  difference  in  the  way  he  treated, 
and  talked,  and  looked  at  her,  as  compared  to  all  about 
her.  It  is  true  he  was  no  more  demonstrative,  than  with 
others ;  his  face  held  its  quiet,  passive  look,  and  he  spoke 
in  much  the  usual,  quiet,  even  tone  of  voice.  Yet 
Leonore  was  at  first  dimly  conscious,  and  later  certain, 
that  there  was  a  shade  of  eagerness  in  his  manner,  a  ten- 
derness in  his  voice,  and  a  look  in  his  eye,  when  he  was 
with  her,  that  was  there  in  the  presence  of  no  one  else. 

So  Leonore  ceased  to  puzzle  over  the  problem  at  a 
given  point,  having  found  the  answer.  But  the  solving 
did  not  bring  her  much  apparent  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  she  remarked  to  herself.  "  I  thought  we 
were  going  to  be  such  good  friends  !  That  we  could  tell 
each  other  everything.  And  now  he's  gone  and  spoiled 
it.  Probably,  too,  he'll  be  bothering  me  later,  and  then 
he'll  be  disappointed,  and  cross,  and  we  shan't  be  good 
friends  any  more.  Oh,  dear  !  Why  do  men  have  to  be- 
have so  ?  Why  can't  they  just  be  friends  ?  " 

It  is  a  question  which  many  women  have  asked.  The 
query  indicates  a  degree  of  modesty  which  should 
make  the  average  masculine  blush  at  his  own  self-love. 
The  best  answer  to  the  problem  we  can  recommend  to  the 
average  woman  is  a  careful  and  long  study  of  a  mirror. 

As  a  result  of  this  cogitation  Leonore  decided  that  she 
would  nip  Peter's  troublesomeness  in  the  bud,  that  she 
would  put  up  a  sign,  "  Trespassing  forbidden  ;"  by  which 
he  might  take  warning.  Many  women  have  done  the 
same  thing  to  would-be  lovers,  and  have  saved  the  lovers 
much  trouble  and  needless  expense.  But  Leonore,  after 
planning  out  a  dialogue  in  her  room,  rather  messed  it 
when  she  came  to  put  it  into  actual  public  performance. 


THE  BLUE-PETER.  291 

Few  girls  of  eighteen  are  cool  over  a  love-affair.  And  so 
it  occurred  thusly  : 

Leonore  said  to  Peter  one  day,  when  he  had  dropped 
in  for  a  cup  of  afternoon  tea  after  his  ride  with  her  : 

"If  I  ask  you  a  question,  I  wonder  if  you  will  tell  me 
what  you  think,  without  misunderstanding  why  I  tell 
you  something  ? " 

"I  will  try." 

"Well,"  said  Leonore,  "there  is  a  very  nice  English- 
man whom  I  knew  in  London,  who  has  followed  me 
over  here,  and  is  troubling  me.  He's  dreadfully  poor, 
and  papa  says  he  thinks  he  is  after  my  money.  Do  you 
think  that  can  be  so  ? " 

So  far  the  public  performance  could  not  have  gone  bet- 
ter if  it  had  been  rehearsed.  But  at  this  point,  the  whole 
programme  went  to  pieces.  Peter's  cup  of  tea  fell  to  the 
floor  with  a  crash,  and  he  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
with  a  look  of  suffering  on  his  face. 

"Peter,"  cried  Leonore,  "what  is  it  ?  " 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Peter,  rallying  a  little.  "Ever 
since  an  operation  on  my  eyes  they  sometimes  misbehave 
themselves.  It's  neuralgia  of  the  optic  nerve.  Sometimes 
it  pains  me  badly.  Don't  mind  me.  It  will  be  all  right 
in  a  minute  if  I'm  quiet/' 

"Can't  I  do  anything?" 

"No.  I  have  an  eye-wash  which  I  used  to  carry  with 
me,  but  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  had  a  return  of  my 
trouble  that  I  have  stopped  carrying  it." 

"  What  causes  it?" 

"Usually  a  shock.     It's  purely  nervous." 

"But  there  was  no  shock  now,  was  there?"  said 
Leonore,  feeling  so  guilty  that  she  felt  it  necessary  to 
pretend  innocence. 

Peter  pulled  himself  together  instantly  and,  leaning  over, 
began  deliberately  to  gather  up  the  fragments  of  the  cup. 
Then  he  laid  the  pieces  on  the  tea-table  and  said  :  "I 
was  dreadfully  frightened  when  I  felt  the  cup  slipping. 
It  was  very  stupid  in  me.  Will  you  try  to  forgive  me  for 
breaking  one  of  your  pretty  set?  " 

"That's  nothing,"  said  Leonore.  To  herself  that  young 
lady  remarked,  "Oh,  dear!  It's  much  worse  than  I 
thought.  I  shan't  dare  say  it  to  him,  after  all." 

But  she  did,  for  Peter  helped  her,  by  going  back  to  her 


292 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


original  question,  saying  bravely:  "I  don't  know 

enough  about  Mr.  Max the  Englishman,  to  speak  of 

him,  but  I  think  I  would  not  suspect  men  of  that,  even  if 
they  are  poor." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  would  be  much  easier,  to  most  men,  to 
love  you  than  to  love  your  money." 

"You  think  so?" 

"Yes." 

"  I'm  so  glad.  I  felt  so  worried  over  it.  Not  about 
this  case,  for  I  don't  care  for  him,  a  bit.  But  I  wondered 
if  I  had  to  suspect  every  man  who  came  near  me." 

Peter's  eyes  ceased  to  burn,  and  his  second  cup  of  tea, 
which  a  moment  before  was  well-nigh  choking  him,  sud- 
denly became  nectar  for  the  gods. 

Then  at  last  Leon  ore  made  the  remark  towards  which 
she  had  been  working.  At  twenty-five  Leonore  would 
have  been  able  to  say  it  without  so  dangerous  a  preamble. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  bothered  by  men,  and  wish  they 
would  let  me  alone,"  she  said.  "  I  haven't  the  slightest 
intention  of  marrying  for  at  least  five  years,  and  shall  say 
no  to  whomever  asks  me  before  then." 

Five  years  !  Peter  sipped  his  tea  quietly,  but  with  a 
hopeless  feeling.  He  would  like  to  claim  that  bit  of 
womanhood  as  his  own  that  moment,  and  she  could  talk 
of  five  years  !  It  was  the  clearest  possible  indication  to 
Peter  that  Leonore  was  heart-whole.  "No  one,  who  is 
in  love,"  he  thought,  "could  possibly  talk  of  five  years, 
or  five  months  even."  When  Peter  got  back  to  his  cham- 
bers that  afternoon,  he  was  as  near  being  despairing  as  he 
had  been  since — since — a  long  time  ago.  Even  the  ob- 
vious fact,  that,  if  Leonore  was  not  in  love  with  him,  she 
was  also  not  in  love  with  any  one  else,  did  not  cheer  him. 
There  is  a  flag  in  the  navy  known  as  the  Blue-Peter, 
That  evening,  Peter  could  have  supplied  our  whole  ma- 
rine, with  considerable  bunting  to  spare. 

But  even  worse  was  in  store  for  him  on  the  morrow. 
When  he  joined  Leonore  in  the  Park  that  day,  she  proved 
to  him  that  woman  has  as  much  absolute  brutality  as 
the  lowest  of  prize-fighters.  Women  get  the  reputation 
of  being  less  brutal,  because  of  their  dread  of  blood-letting. 
Yet  when  it  comes  to  torturing  the  opposite  sex  in  its 
feelings,  they  are  brutes  compared  with  their  sufferers. 


TffE  BLUE-PETER.  293 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Leonore,  "  that  this  is  almost  our 
last  ride  together?  " 

"  Don't  jerk  the  reins  needlessly,  Peter,"  said  Mutineer, 
crossly. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Peter. 

"  We  have  changed  our  plans.  Instead  of  going  to 
Newport  next  week,  I  have  at  last  persuaded  papa  to 
travel  a  little,  so  that  I  can  see  something  of  my  own 
country,  and  not  be  so  shamefully  ignorant.  We  are 
going  to  Washington  on  Saturday,  and  from  there  to  Cali- 
fornia, and  then  through  the  Yellowstone,  and  back  by 
Niagara.  We  shan't  be  in  Newport  till  the  middle  of 
August." 

Peter  did  not  die  at  once.  He  caught  at  a  life-preserver 
of  a  most  delightful  description.  "  That  will  be  a  very 
enjoyable  trip,"  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  go  myself." 

"  There  is  no  one  I  would  rather  have  than  you/'  said 
Leonore,  laying  her  little  hand  softly  on  the  wound  she 
had  herself  just  made,  in  a  way  which  women  have. 
Then  she  stabbed  again.  "  But  we  think  it  pleasanter  to 
have  it  just  a  party  of  four." 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  in  Washington  ?  "  asked  Peter, 
catching  wildly  at  a  straw  this  time. 

-Fora  week.     Why?" 

"  The  President  has  been  wanting  to  see  me,  and  I 
thought  I  might  run  down  next  week." 

"  Dear  me,"  thought  Leonore.  "  How  very  persistent 
he  is  ! " 

"  Where  will  you  put  up? "  said  Peter. 

"We  haven't  decided.  Where  shall  you  stay?"  she 
had  the  brutality  to  ask. 

"  The  President  wants  me  with  him,  but  I  may  go  to  a 
hotel.  It  leaves  one  so  much  freer."  Peter  was  a  lawyer, 
and  saw  no  need  of  committing  himself.  "  If  I  am  there 
when  you  are,  I  can  perhaps  help  you  enjoy  yourself.  I 
think  I  can  get  you  a  lunch  at  the  White  House,  and,  as  I 
know  most  of  the  officials,  I  have  an  open  sesame  to  some 
other  nice  things. "  Poor  Peter  !  He  was  trying  to  tempt 
Leonore  to  tolerate  his  company  by  offering  attractions  in 
connection  therewith.  A  chromo  with  the  pound  of  tea. 
And  this  from  the  man  who  had  thought  flowers  and  bon- 
bons bribery  ! 

"  Why  does  the  President  want  to  see  you?  " 


294  THE  HONORABLE  PE  TER  STIRLING. 

"To  talk  politics." 

"About  the  governorship ?  " 

"  Yes.     Though  we  don't  say  so." 

"  Is  it  true,  Peter,  that  you  can  decide  who  it  is  to  be, 
as  the  papers  say  ?  " 

"  No.  I  would  give  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  to- 
day if  I  could  name  the  Democratic  nominee." 

"Why?" 

"  Would  you  mind  my  not  telling  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  want  to  know.  And  you  are  to  tell  me,"  said 
her  majesty,  calmly. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  though  it  is  a  secret,  if  you  will  tell 
me  a  secret  of  yours  which  I  want  to  know." 

"  No,"  said  Leonore.  "  I  don't  think  that's  necessary. 
You  are  to  tell  me  without  making  me  promise  anything." 
Leonore  might  deprecate  a  man's  falling  in  love  with  her, 
but  she  had  no  objection  to  the  power  and  perquisites  it 
involved. 

"  Then  I  shan't  tell  you,"  said  Peter,  making  a  tre- 
mendous rally. 

Leonore  looked  out  from  under  her  lashes  to  see  just 
how  much  of  Peter's  sudden  firmness  was  real  and  how 
much  pretence.  Then  she  became  unconscious  of  his 
presence. 

Peter  said  something. 

Silence. 

Peter  said  something  else. 

Silence. 

"  Are  you  really  so  anxious  to  know  ?  "  he  asked,  sur- 
rendering without  terms. 

He  had  a  glorious  look  at  those  glorious  eyes.  "Yes," 
said  the  dearest  of  all  mouths. 

"  The  great  panic,"  said  Peter,  "  has  led  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  so-called  Labor  party,  and,  from  present  indica- 
tions, they  are  going  to  nominate  a  bad  man.  Now, 
there  is  a  great  attempt  on  foot  to  get  the  Democratic 
convention  to  endorse  whomever  the  Labor  party  nom- 
inates." 

"Who  will  that  be?" 

"A  Stephen  Maguire." 

"  And  you  don't  want  him?  " 

"  No.  I  have  never  crossed  his  path  without  finding 
him  engaged  in  something  discreditable.  But  he's  truckled 


A  MUTINEER.  295 

himself  into  a  kind  of  popularity  and  power,  and,  having 
always  been  'a  Democrat/  he  hopes  to  get  the  party  to 
endorse  him." 

"  Can't  you  order  the  convention  not  to  do  it  ?  "    • 

Peter  smiled  down  into  the  eyes.  "  We  don't  order 
men  in  this  country  with  any  success." 

"  But  can't  you  prevent  them  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so.  But  it  looks  now  as  if  I  should  have  to  do 
it  in  a  way  very  disagreeable  to  myself. " 

"  How?" 

"  This  is  a  great  secret,  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Leonore,  all  interest  and  eagerness.  "  I 
can  keep  a  secret  splendidly." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"Sure." 

"  So  can  I,"  said  Peter. 

Leonore  perfectly  bristled  with  indignation.  "  I  won't 
be  treated  so,"  she  said.  "  Are  you  going  to  tell  me?  " 
She  put  on  her  severest  manner. 

"No,  "said  Peter. 

"  He  is  obstinate,"  thought  Leonore  to  herself.  Then 
aloud  she  said  :  "  Then  I  shan't  be  friends  any  more?  " 

"  That  is  very  nice,"  said  Peter,  soberly. 

"  What?  "  said  Leonore,  looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion,"  said  Peter,  "  that 
there  is  no  use  in  our  trying  to  be  friends.  So  we  had 
better  give  up  at  once.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  What  a  pretty  horse  Miss  Winthrop  has  ?  "  said  Leo- 
nore. And  she  never  obtained  an  answer  to  her  question, 
nor  answered  Peter's. 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 
A  MUTINEER. 

AFTER  Peter's  return  from  Washington,  there  was  a  set- 
tled gloom  about  him  positively  appalling.  He  could  not 
be  wooed,  on  any  plea,  by  his  closest  friends,  to  journey 
up-town  into  the  social  world.  He  failed  entirely  to 
avail  himself  of  the  room  in  the  Rivington's  Newport  villa, 


296  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

though  Dorothy  wrote  appealingly,  and  cited  his  own 
words  to  him.  Even  to  his  partners  he  became  almost 
silent,  except  on  law  matters.  Jenifer  found  that  no  deli- 
cacy, however  rare  or  however  well  cooked  and  served, 
seemed  to  be  noticed  any  more  than  if  it  was  mess-pork. 
The  only  moments  that  this  atmosphere  seemed  to  yield 
at  all  was  when  Peter  took  a  very  miscellaneous  collec- 
tion of  rubbish  out  of  a  little  sachet,  meant  for  handker- 
chiefs, which  he  now  carried  in  his  breast-pocket,  and 
touched  the  various  articles  to  his  lips.  Then  for  a  time 
he  would  look  a  little  less  suicidal. 

But  it  was  astonishing  the  amount  of  work  he  did,  the 
amount  of  reading  he  got  through,  the  amount  of  politics 
he  bossed,  and  the  cigars  he  smoked,  between  the  first  of 
June,  and  the  middle  of  August.  The  party-leaders  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  Peter  did  not.  intend  to  take 
a  hand  in  this  campaign,  but,  after  his  return  from  Wash- 
ington, they  decided  otherwise.  "The  President  must 
have  asked  him  to  interfere,"  was  their  whispered  conclu- 
sion, "but  it's  too  late  now.  It's  all  cut  and  dried.*' 

Peter  found,  as  this  remark  suggested,  that  his  two 
months' devotion  to  the  dearest  of  eyes  and  sweetest  of  lips, 
had  had  serious  results.  As  with  Mutineer  once,  h^had 
dropped  his  bridle,  but  there  was  no  use  in  uttering,  as  he 
had  then,  the  trisyllable  which  had  reduced  the  horse  to 
order.  He  had  a  very  different  kind  of  a  creature  with 
which  to  deal,  than  a  Kentucky  gentleman  of  lengthy 
lineage.  A  creature  called  sometimes  a  "tiger."  Yet 
curiously  enough,  the  same  firm  voice,  and  the  same  firm 
manner,  and  a  "mutineer,"  though  this  time  a  man  in- 
stead of  a  horse,  was  effective  here.  All  New  York  knew 
that  something  had  been  done,  and  wanted  to  know  what. 
There  was  not  a  newspaper  in  the  city  that  would  have 
refused  to  give  five  thousand  dollars  for  an  authentic 
stenographic  report  of  what  actually  was  said  in  a  space 
of  time  not  longer  than  three  hours  in  all.  Indeed,  so 
intensely  were  people  interested,  that  several  papers  felt 
called  upon  to  fabricate  and  print  most  absurd  versions 
of  what  did  occur,  all  the  accounts  reaching  conclusions 
as  absolutely  different  as  the  press  portraits  of  celebrities. 
From  three  of  them  it  is  a  temptation  to  quote  the  display 
headlines  or  "scare-heads,"  which  ushered  these  reports 
to  the  world.  The  first  read  : 


A  MUTINEER.  297 

"THE  BOSSES  AT  WAR!" 


"  HOT  WORDS    AND    LOOKS.  >' 


"BUT  THEY'LL   CRAWL   LATER." 

"  There's  beauty  in  the  bellow  of  the  blast, 

There's  grandeur  in  the  growling  of  the  gale  ; 
But  there's  eloquence-appalling,  when  Stirling  is  aroaring, 
And  the  Tiger's  getting  modest  with  his  tail." 

That  was  a  Republican  account.     The  second  was  : 

"MAGUIRE  ON  TOP!" 


"  The  Old  Man  is  Friendly.  A  Peace-making 
Dinner  at  the  Manhattan  Club.  Friends  in 
Council.  Labor  and  Democracy  Shoulder 
to  Shoulder.  A  United  Front  to  the  Enemy." 


The  third,  printed  in  an  insignificant  little  penny  paper, 
never  read  and  almost  unknown  by  reading  people,  yet 
which  had  more  city  advertising  than  all  the  other  papers 
put  together,  and  a  circulation  to  match  the  largest,  an- 
nounced : 

"TACITURNITY   JUNIOR'S" 


"ONCE  MORE  AT  THE  BAT!' 

"NO  MORE  NONSENSE." 

"HE    PUTS   MAGUIRE   OUT   ON   THIRD    BASE." 

«r 

"NOW  PLAY  BALL!" 


298  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

And  unintelligible  as  this  latter  sounds,  it  was  near  enough 
the  truth  to  suggest  inspiration.  But  there  is  no  need  to 
reprint  the  article  that  followed,  for  now  it  is  possible,  for 
the  first  time,  to  tell  what  actually  occurred ;  and  this 
contribution  should  alone  permit  this  work  to  rank,  as  no 
doubt  it  is  otherwise  fully  qualified  to,  in  the  dullest  class 
of  all  books,  that  of  the  historical  novel. 

The  facts  are,  that  Peter  alighted  from  a  hansom  one 
evening,  in  the  middle  of  July,  and  went  into  the  Man- 
hattan Club.  He  exchanged  greetings  with  a  number  of 
men  in  the  halls,  and  with  more  who  came  in  while  he 
was  reading  the  evening  papers.  A  man  came  up  to  him 
while  he  still  read,  and  said  : 

"Well,  Stirling.     Reading  about  your  own  iniquity  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  rising  and  shaking  hands.  "  I  gave 
up  reading  about  that  ten  years  ago.  Life  is  too  short. " 

"Pelton  and  Webber  were  checking  their  respectability 
in  the  coat-room,  as  I  came  up.  I  suppose  they  are  in 
Hie  cafe" 

Peter  said  nothing,  but  turned,  and  the  two  entered  that 
room.  Peter  shook  hands  with  three  men  who  were 
there,  and  they  all  drew  up  round  one  of  the  little  tables. 
A  good  many  men  who  saw  that  group,  nudged  each 
other,  and  whispered  remarks. 

"A  reporter  from  the*SVm  is  in  the  strangers'  room,  Mr. 
Stirling,  and  asks  to  see  you/'  said  a  servant. 

"  I  cannot  see  him/'  said  Peter,  quietly.  "  But  say  to 
him  that  I  may  possibly  have  something  to  tell  him  about 
eleven  o'clock." 

The  four  men  at  the  table  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  can't  imagine  a  newspaper  getting  an  interview  out 
of  you,  Stirling/'  laughed  one  of  them,  a  little  nervously. 

Peter  smiled.  "  Very  few  of  us  are  absolutely  consist- 
ent. I  can't  imagine  any  of  you,  for  instance,  making  a 
political  mistake,  but  perhaps  you  may  some  day." 

A  pause  of  a  curious  kind  came  after  this,  which  was 
only  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  three  more  men.  They 
all  shook  hands,  and  Peter  rang  a  bell. 

"What  shall  it  be  ? "  he  asked. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  one  said. 
" Order  for  us.  You're  host.  Just  what  you  like." 

Peter  smiled.  "Thomas,"  he  said,  " bring  us  eight 
Apollinaris  cocktails. " 


A  MUTINEER.  299 

The  men  all  laughed,  and  Thomas  said,  "Beg  pardon, 
Mr.  Stirling  ?  "  in  a  bewildered  way.  Thomas  had  served 
the  club  many  years,  but  he  had  never  heard  of  that  cock- 
tail. 

"Well,  Thomas/'  said  Peter,  "  if  you  don't  have  that 
in  stock,  make  it  seven  Blackthorns. " 

Then  presently  eight  men  packed  themselves  into  the 
elevator,  and  a  moment  later  were  sitting  in  one  of  the 
private  dining-rooms.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  they 
chatted  over  the  meal,  very  much  as  if  it  were  nothing 
more  than  a  social  dinner.  But  the  moment  the  servant 
had  passed  the  cigars  and  light,  and  had  withdrawn,  the 
chat  suddenly  ceased,  and  a  silence  came  for  a  moment. 
Then  a  man  said  : 

"  It's  a  pity  it  can't  please  all,  but  the  majority's  got  to 
rule. " 

"Yes,"  promptly  said  another,  "this  is  really  aMaguire 
ratification  meeting. " 

"There's  nothing  else  to  do,"  affirmed  a  third. 

But  a  fourth  said  :   "Then  what  are  we  here  for ?  " 

No  one  seemed  to  find  an  answer.  After  a  moment's 
silence,  the  original  speaker  said  : 

"  It's  the  only  way  we  can  be  sure  of  winning." 

"  He  gives  us  every  pledge,"  echoed  the  second. 

"  And  we've  agreed,  anyways,  so  we  are  bound,"  con- 
tinued the  first  speaker. 

Peter  took  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth.  "Who  are 
bound  ?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  Why,  the  organization  is — the  party,"  said  Number 
Two,  with  a  "  deny-it-if-you-dare  "  in  his  voice. 

"  I  don't  see  how  we  can  back  out  now,  Stirling,"  said 
Number  One. 

"Who  wants  to?"  said  another.  "The  Labor  party 
promises  to  support  us  on  our  local  nominations,  and 
Maguire  is  not  merely  a  Democrat,  but  he  gives  us  every 
pledge." 

*  There's  no  good  of  talking  of  anything  else  anyhow," 
said  Number  One,  "  for  there  will  be  a  clean  majority  for 
Maguire  in  the  convention." 

"And  no  other  candidate  can  poll  fifty  votes  on  the 
first  ballot,"  said  Number  Two. 

Then  they  all  looked  at  Peter,  and  became  silent.  Peter 
puffed  his  cigar  thoughtfully. 


300  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  said  Number  One. 

Peter  merely  shook  his  head. 

"  But  I  tell  you  it's  done,"  cried  one  of  the  men,  a  little 
excitedly.  "  It's  too  late  to  backslide!  We  want  to 
please  you,  Stirling,  but  we  can't  this  time.  We  must  do 
what's  right  for  the  party. " 

"  I'm  not  letting  my  own  feeling  decide  it,"  said  Peter. 
"  I'm  thinking  of  the  party.  For  every  vote  the  Labor 
people  give  Maguire,  the  support  of  that  party  will  lose  us 
a  Democratic  vote. " 

"  But  we  can't  win  with  a  triangular  fight.  The  Repub- 
licans will  simply  walk  over  the  course." 

If  Peter  had  been  a  hot-headed  reformer,  he  would  have 
said  :  " Better  that  than  that  such  a  scoundrel  shall  win." 
But  Peter  was  a  politician,  and  so  saw  no  need  of  saying 
the  unpleasantest  thing  that  occurred  to  him,  even  if  he 
felt  it.  Instead,  he  said:  "The  Labor  party  will  get  as 
many  votes  from  the  Republicans  as  from  us,  and,  for 
every  vote  the  Labor  party  takes  from  us,  we  shall  get  a 
Republican  vote,  if  we  put  up  the  right  kind  of  a  man." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  Number  One. 

"  How  do  you  figure  that  ?  "  asked  another. 

"In  these  panic  times,  the  nomination  of  such  a  man  as 
Maguire,  with  his  truckling  to  the  lowest  passions  and  his 
socialistic  speeches,  will  frighten  conservative  men  enough 
to  make  them  break  party  lines,  and  unite  on  the  most 
certain  candidate.  That  will  be  ours." 

"  But  why  risk  it,  when,  with  Maguire,  it's  certain?  " 

Peter  wanted  to  say  :  "  Maguire  shall  not  be  endorsed, 
and  that  ends  it."  Instead,  he  said  :  "We  can  win  with 
our  own  man,  and  don't  need  to  trade  with  or  endorse  the 
Labor  party.  We  can  elect  Maguire  by  the  aid  of  the 
worst  votes  in  this  city,  or  we  can  elect  our  own  man  by 
the  aid  of  the  best.  The  one  weakens  our  party  in  the 
future  ;  the  other  strengthens  it." 

"You  think  that  possible?"  asked  the  man  who  had 
sought  information  as  to  what  they  "were  here  for." 

"  Yes.  The  Labor  party  makes  a  stir,  but  it  wouldn't 
give  us  the  oyster  and  be  content  with  the  shells  if  it 
really  felt  strong.  See  what  it  offers  us.  All  the  local 
and  State  ticket  except  six  assemblymen,  two  senators, 
and  a  governor,  tied  hand  and  foot  to  us,  whose  proudest 
claim  for  years  has  been  that  he's  a  Democrat " 


A  MUTINEER.  301 

"But  all  this  leaves  out  of  sight  the  fact  that  the  thing's 
done,"  said  Number  One. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"  Yes.  It's  too  late.  The  polls  are  closed,"  said 
another. 

Peter  stopped  puffing.  "The  convention  hasn't  met/1 
he  remarked,  quietly. 

That  remark,  however,  seemed  to  have  a  sting  in  it,  for 
Number  Two  cried  : 

"  Come.  We've  decided.  Now,  put  up  or  shut  up. 
No  more  beating  about  the  bush. " 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"  Tell  us  what  you  intend,  Stirling,"  said  Number  One. 
"  We  are  committed  beyond  retreat.  Come  in  with  us,  or 
stay  outside  the  breastworks. " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Peter,  "since  you've  taken  your  own 
position,  without  consulting  me,  you  will  allow  me  the 
same  privilege." 

4  *  Go  to  —  where  you  please,"  said  Number  Six,  crossly. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to  do?"  asked  Number 
One. 

Peter  knocked  the  ash  off  his  cigar.  "  You  consider 
yourselves  pledged  to  support  Maguire  ?  " 

"  Yes.     We  are  pledged,"  said  four  voices  in  unison. 

M  So  am  I,"  said  Peter. 

"  How?" 

"  To  oppose  him,"  said  Peter. 

"  But  I  tell  you  the  majority  of  the  convention  is  for 
him,"  said  Number  One.  "Don't  you  believe  me?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  what  good  will  your  opposition  do?  " 

"  It  will  defeat  Maguire." 

"  No  power  on  earth  can  do  that." 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"  You  can't  beat  him  in  the  convention,  Stirling.  The 
delegates  pledged  to  him,  and  those  we  can  give  him  elect 
him  on  the  first  ballot." 

"  How  about  November  fourth  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

Number  One  sprang  to  his  feet.  "You  don't  mean?" 
he  cried. 

"  Never  !  "  said  Number  Three. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 


302  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Come,  Stirling-,  say  what  you  intend  !  " 

"  I  intend,"  said  Peter,  "  if  the  Democratic  convention 
endorses  Stephen  Maguire,  to  speak  against  him  in  every 
ward  of  this  city,  and  ask  every  man  in  it,  whom  I  can 
influence,  to  vote  for  the  Republican  candidate." 

Dead  silence  reigned. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"  You'll  go  back  on  the  party  ? "  finally  said  one,  in 
awe-struck  tones. 

"  You'll  be  a  traitor?  "  cried  another. 

"  I'd  have  believed  anything  but  that  you  would  be  a 
dashed  Mugwump  !  "  groaned  the  third. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"Say  you  are  fooling?  "  begged  Number  Seven. 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "Nor  am  I  more  a  traitor  to  my 
party  than  you.  You  insist  on  supporting  the  Labor  can- 
didate and  I  shall  support  the  Republican  candidate.  We 
are  both  breaking  our  party." 

"  We'll  win,"  said  Number  One. 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar. 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  said  the  gentleman  of  the  previous 
questions.  "  How  many  votes  can  you  hurt  us,  Stirling?  " 

"  I  don't  know."     Peter  looked  very  contented. 

"You  can't  expect  to  beat  us  single?" 

Peter  smiled  quietly.  "  I  haven't  had  time  to  see  many 
men.  But — I'm  not  single.  Bohlmann  says  the  brewers 
will  back  me,  Hummel  says  he'll  be  guided  by  me,  and  the 
President  won't  interfere." 

"You  might  as  well  give  up,"  continued  the  previous 
questioner.  "The  Sixth  is  a  sure  thirty-five  hundred  to 
the  bad,  and  between  Stirling's  friends,  and  the  Hummel 
crowd,  and  Bohlmann's  people,  you'll  lose  twenty-five 
thousand  in  the  rest  of  the  city,  besides  the  Democrats 
you'll  frighten  off  by  the  Labor  party.  You  can't  put  it 
less  than  thirty-five  thousand,  to  say  nothing  of  the  hole 
in  the  campaign  fund." 

The  beauty  about  a  practical  politician  is  that  votes 
count  for  more  than  his  own  wishes.  Number  One  said  : 

"Well,  that's  ended.  You've  smashed  our  slate. 
What  have  you  got  in  its  place  ?  " 

"Porter?  "  suggested  Peter. 

"No,"  said  three  voices. 

"  We  can't  stand  any  more  of  him,"  said  Number  One. 


A  MUTINEER.  303 

"He's  an  honest,  square  man,"  said  Peter. 

tl  Can't  help  that.  One  dose  of  a  man  who's  got  as 
little  gumption  as  he,  is  all  we  can  stand.  He  may  have 
education,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  he  has  intellect.  Why 
don't  you  ask  us  to  choose  a  college  professor,  and  have 
done  with  it." 

" Come,  Stirling,"  said  the  previous  questioner,  "the 
thing's  been  messed  so  that  we've  got  to  go  into  conven- 
tion with  just  the  right  man  to  rally  the  delegates. 
There's  only  one  man  we  can  do  it  with,  and  you  know 
it." 

Peter  rose,  and  dropped  his  cigar-stump  into  the  ash- 
receiver.  "I  don't  see  anything  else,"  he  said,  gloomily. 
"  Do  any  of  you  ?  " 

A  moment's  silence,  and  then  Number  One  said  : 
"No." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  I'll  take  the  nomination  if  neces- 
sary, but  keep  it  back  for  a  time,  till  we  see  if  something 
better  can't  be  hit  upon." 

"  No  danger,"  said  Number  One,  holding  out  his  hand, 
g-Ieefully. 

"There's  more  ways  of  killing  a  pig  than  choking  it 
with  butter,"  said  Number  Three,  laughing  and  doing  the 
same. 

"It's  a  pity  Costell  isn't  here,"  added  the  previous 
questioner.  "After  you're  not  yielding  to  him,  he'd  never 
believe  we  had  forced  you  to  take  it." 

And  that  was  what  actually  took  place  at  that  very-much- 
talked-about  dinner. 

Peter  went  downstairs  with  a  very  serious  look  on  his 
face.  At  the  door,  the  keeper  of  it  said  :  "There  are  six 
reporters  in  the  strangers'  room,  Mr.  Stirling,  who  wish  to 
see  you." 

A  man  who  had  just  come  in  said  :  "I'm  sorry  for  you, 
Peter." 

Peter  smiled  quietly.  "Tell  them  our  wishes  are  not 
mutual."  Then  he  turned  to  the  newcomer.  "  It's  all 
right,"  he  said,  "so  far  as  the  party  is  concerned,  HummeL 
But  I'm  to  foot  the  bill  to  do  it." 

"The  devil !     You  don't  mean ?  " 

Peter  nodded  his  head. 

"  I'll  give  twenty-five  thousand  to  the  fund,"  said  Hum- 
mel, gleefully.  "  See  if  I  don't. " 


304  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Stirling/'  said  a  man  who  had  just 
come  in. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Peter  promptly.  "But  I  must  ask  the 
same  favor  of  you,  as  I  am  going  down  town  at  once.'' 
Peter  had  the  brutality  to  pass  out  of  the  front  door  in- 
stantly, leaving  the  reporter  with  a  disappointed  look  on 
his  face. 

"If  he  only  would  have  said  something?  "  groaned  the 
reporter  to  himself.  "Anything  that  could  be  spun  into 
a  column.  He  needn't  have  told  me  what  he  didn't  care  to 
tell,  yet  he  could  have  helped  me  to  pay  my  month's  rent 
as  easily  as  could  be." 

As  for  Peter,  he  fell  into  a  long  stride,  and  his  face  nearly 
equalled  his  stride  in  length.  After  he  reached  his  quarters 
he  sat  and  smoked,  with  the  same  serious  look.  He  did 
not  look  cross.  He  did  not  have  the  gloom  in  his  face 
which  had  been  so  fixed  an  expression  for  the  last  month. 
But  he  looked  as  a  man  might  look  who  knew  he  had  but 
a  few  hours  to  live,  yet  to  whom  death  had  no  terror. 

"  I  am  giving  up,"  Peter  thought,  "  everything  that  has 
been  my  true  life  till  now.  My  profession,  my  friends, 
my  chance  to  help  others,  my  books,  and  my  quiet.  I 
shall  be  misunderstood,  reviled  and  hated.  Everything  I 
do  will  be  distorted  for  partisan  purposes.  Friends  will 
misjudge.  Enemies  will  become  the  more  bitter.  I  give 
up  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  in  order  to  become  a  slave, 
with  toadies,  trappers,  lobbyists  and  favor-seekers  as  my 
daily  quota  of  humanity.  I  even  sacrifice  the  larger  part 
of  my  power." 

So  ran  Peter's  thoughts,  and  they  were  the  thoughts  of 
a  man  who  had  not  worked  seventeen  years  in  politics  for 
nothing.  He  saw  alienation  of  friends,  income,  peace, 
and  independence,  and  the  only  return  a  mere  title,  which 
to  him  meant  a  loss,  rather  than  a  gain  of  power.  Yet 
this  was  one  of  the  dozen  prizes  thought  the  best  worth 
striving  for  in  our  politics.  Is  it  a  wonder  that  our 
government  and  office-holding  is  left  to  the  foreign  ele- 
ment? That  the  native  American  should  prefer  any  other 
work,  rather  than  run  the  gauntlet  of  public  opinion  and 
press,  with  loss  of  income  and  peace,  that  he  may  hold 
some  difficult  office  for  a  brief  term  ? 

But  finally  Peter  rose.  "  Perhaps  she'll  like  it,"  he  said 
aloud,  and  presumably,  since  no  woman  is  allowed  a 


CLOUDS.  305 

voice  in  American  politics,  he  was  thinking  of  Miss  Colum- 
bia. Then  he  looked  at  some  photographs,  a  scrap  of 
ribbon,  a  gold  coin  (Peter  clearly  was  becoming  a  money 
worshipper),  three  letters,  a  card,  a  small  piece  of  blotting- 
paper,  a  handkerchief  (which  Leonore  and  Peter  had  spent 
nearly  ten  minutes  in  trying  to  find  one  day),  a  glove,  and 
some  dried  rose-leaves  and  violets.  Yet  this  was  the  man 
who  had  grappled  an  angry  tiger  but  two  hours  before 
and  had  brought  it  to  lick  his  hand. 
He  went  to  bed  very  happy. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 
CLOJDS. 

BUT  a  month  later  he  was  far  happier,  for  one  morning; 
towards  the  end  of  August,  his  mail  brought  him  a  letter 
from  Watts,  announcing  that  they  had  been  four  days 
installed  in  their  Newport  home,  and  that  Peter  would 
now  be  welcome  any  time.  "  I  have  purposely  not  filled 
Grey-Court  this  summer,  so  that  you  should  have  every 
chance.  Between  you  and  me  and  the  post,  I  think  there 
have  been  moments  when  mademoiselle  missed  *  her 
friend '  far  more  than  she  confessed. " 

"  Dat's  stronory,  "  thought  Jenifer.  "  He  dun  eat  mo' 
dis  yar  hot  mo'nin'  dan  he  dun  in  two  mumfs." 

Then  Jenifer  was  sent  out  with  a  telegram,  which 
merely  said  :  "  May  I  come  to-day  by  Shore  line  limited  ? 
P.  S." 

"When  you  get  back,  Jenifer,"  said  Peter,  "you  may 
pack  my  trunk  and  your  own.  We  ma/  start  for  Newport 
at  two."  Evidently  Peter  did  not  intend  to  run  any  risks 
of  missing  the  train,  in  case  the  answer  should  be  favor- 
able. 

Peter  passed  into  his  office,  and  set  to  work  to  put  the 
loose  ends  in  such  shape  that  nothing  should  go  wrong 
during  his  absence.  He  had  not  worked  long,  when  one 
of  the  boys  told  him  that  : 

"Mr.  Cassius  Curlew  wants  to  see  you,  Mr.  Stirling." 

Peter  stopped  his  writing,  looking  up  quickly  :    ''Did 
he  say  on  what  business  ?  " 
20 


306  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLTtfQ. 

"No." 

"Ask  him,  please."  And  Peter  went  on  writing  till  the 
boy  returned. 

"  He  says  it's  about  the  convention." 

"Tell  him  he  must  be  more  specific." 

The  boy  returned  in  a  moment  with  a  folded  scrap  of 
paper. 

"  He  said  that  would  tell  you,  Mr.  Stirling." 

Peter  unfolded  the  scrap,  and  read  upon  it :  "A  message 
from  Maguire." 

"Show  him  in."  Peter  touched  a  little  knob  on  his 
desk  on  which  was  stamped  "  Chief  Clerk. "  A  moment 
later  a  man  opened  a  door.  "  Samuels,"  said  Peter,  "I 
wish  you  would  stay  here  for  a  moment.  I  want  you  to 
listen  to  what's  said." 

The  next  moment  a  man  crossed  the  threshold  of  an- 
other door.-  "  Good-morning,  Mr.  Stirling,"  he  said. 

"Mr.  Curlew,"  said  Peter,  without  rising  and  with  a 
cold  inclination  of  his  head. 

"  I  have  a  message  for  you,  Mr.  Stirling,"  said  the  man, 
pulling  a  chair  into  a  position  that  suited  him,  and  sitting, 
" but  if s  private." 

Peter  said  nothing,  but  began  to  write. 

"Do  you  understand?  I  want  a  word  with  you  pri- 
vate," said  the  man  after  a  pause. 

"  Mr.  Samuels  is  my  confidential  clerk.  You  can  speak 
with  perfect  freedom  before  him. "  Peter  spoke  without 
raising  his  eyes  from  his  writing. 

"But  I  don't  want  any  one  round.  It's  just  between 
you  and  me." 

"When  I  got  your  message,"  said  Peter,  still  writing, 
"I  sent  for  Mr.  Samuels.  If  you  have  anything  to  say, 
say  it  now.  Otherwise  leave  it  unsaid. " 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  man,  "your  party's  been  tricking 
us,  and  we  won't  stand  it." 

Peter  wrote  diligently. 

"  And  we  know  who's  back  of  it.  It  was  all  pie  down 
to  that  dinner  of  yours. " 

"Is  that  Maguire's  message?"  asked  Peter,  though 
with  no  cessation  of  his  labors. 

"Nop,"  said  the  man.  "That's  the  introduction.  Now, 
we  know  what  it  means.  You  needn't  deny  it.  You're 
squinting  at  the  governorship  yourself.  And  you've  made 


CLOUDS.  307 

the  rest  go  back  on  Maguire,  and  work  for  you  on  the 
quiet.  Oh,  we  know  what's  going  on." 

"Tell  me  when  you  begin  on  the  message,"  said  Peter> 
still  writing. 

"Maguire's  sent  me  to  you,  to  tell  you  to  back  water. 
To  stop  bucking." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Maguire  I  have  received  his  message." 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  all,  and  don't  you  forget  it !  Maguire's 
in  this  for  fur  and  feathers,  and  if  you  go  before  the  con- 
vention as  a  candidate,  we'll  fill  the  air  with  them." 

"  Is  that  part  of  the  message?  "  asked  Peter. 

"By  that  we  mean  that  half  an  hour  after  you  accept 
the  nomination,  we'll  have  a  force  of  detectives  at  work 
on  your  past  life,  and  we'll  hunt  down  and  expose  every 
discreditable  thing  you've  ever  done.*' 

Peter  rose,  and  the  man  did  the  same  instantly,  putting 
one  of  his  hands  on  his  hip-pocket.  But  eveit  before  he 
did  it,  Peter  had  begun  speaking,  in  a  quiet,  self-contained 
voice:  "That  sounds  so  like  Mr.  Maguire,  that  I  think 
we  have  the  message  at  last.  Go  to  him,  and  say  that  I 
have  received  his  message.  That  I  know  him,  and  I 
know  his  methods.  That  I  understand  his  hopes  of 
driving  me,  as  he  has  some,  from  his  path,  by  threats  of 
private  scandal.  That,  judging  others  by  himself,  he 
believes  no  man's  life  can  bear  probing.  Tell  him  that 
he  has  misjudged  for  once.  Tell  him  that  he  has  himself 
decided  me  in  my  determination  to  accept  the  nomination. 
That  rather  than  see  him  the  nominee  of  the  Democratic 
party,  I  will  take  it  myself.  Tell  him  to  set  on  his  blood- 
hounds. They  are  welcome  to  all  they  can  unearth  in  my 
life." 

Peter  turned  towards  his  door,  intending  to  leave  the 
room,  for  he  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  could  sustain  this 
altitude,  if  he  saw  more  of  the  man.  But  as  his  hand  was 
on  the  knob,  Curlew  spoke  again. 

"One  moment,"  he  called.  "We've  got  something 
more  to  say  to  you.  We  have  proof  already. " 

Peter  turned,  with  an  amused  look  on  his  face.  "  I 
was  wondering,"  he  said,  "if  Maguire  really  expected  to 
drive  me  with  such  vague  threats. " 

"No  siree,"  said  Curlew  with  a  self-assured  manner,  but 
at  the  same  time  putting  Peter's  desk  between  the  clerk 
and  himself,  so  that  his  flank  could  not  be  turned  "  We've 


308  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

got  some  evidence  that  won't  be  sweet  reading  for  yout 
and  we're  going  to  print  it,  if  you  take  the  nomination." 

.''Tell  Mr.  Maguire  he  had  better  put  his  evidence  in 
print  at  once.  That  I  shall  take  the  nomination." 

"And  disgrace  one  of  your  best  friends  ?  "  asked  Curlew. 

Peter  started  slightly,  and  looked  sharply  at  the  man. 

"  Ho,  ho,"  said  Curlew.  "That  bites, eh ?  Well,  it  will 
bite  worse  before  it's  through  with. " 

Peter  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  but  his  hands  trembled 
slightly,  and  any  one  who  understood  anatomy  could  have 
recognized  that  every  muscle  in  his  body  was  at  full  ten- 
sion. But  all  he  said  was  :  "  Well  ?  " 

"It's  about  that  trip  of  yours  on  the  '  Majestic.' " 

Peter  looked  bewildered. 

"  We've  got  sworn  affidavits  of  two  stewards,"  Curlew 
continued, ."  about  yours  and  some  one  else's  goings  on. 
I  guess  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rivington  won't  thank  you  for 
having  them  printed. " 

Instantly  came  a  cry  of  fright,  and  the  crack  of  a  revolver, 
which  brought  Peter's  partners  and  the  clerks  crowding 
into  the  room.  It  was  to  find  Curlew  lying  back  on  the 
desk,  held  there  by  Peter  with  one  hand,  while  his  other, 
clasping  the  heavy  glass  inkstand,  was  swung  aloft. 
There  was  a  look  on  Peter's  face  that  did  not  become  it. 
An  insurance  company  would  not  have  considered 
Curlew's  life  at  that  moment  a  fair  risk. 

But  when  Peter's  arm  descended  it  did  so  gently, 
put  the  inkstand  back  on  the  desk,  and  taking  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  wiped  a  splash  of  ink  from  the  hand  that 
had  a  moment  before  been  throttling  Curlew.  That 
worthy  struggled  up  from  his  back-breaking  attitude  and 
the  few  parts  of  his  face  not  drenched  with  ink,  were 
very  white,  while  his  hands  trembled  more  than  had  Peter's 
a  moment  before. 

"Peter  !  "  cried  Ogden.      "What  is  it  ?  " 

"I  lost  my  temper  for  a  moment,"  said  Peter. 

"  But  who  fired  that  shot  ?  " 

Peter  turned  to  the  clerks.  "Leave  the  room,"  he 
said,  "all  of  you.  And  keep  this  to  yourselves.  I 
don't  think  the  other  floors  could  have  heard  anything 
through  the  fire-proof  brick,  but  if  any  one  comes,  refer 
them  to  me."  As  the  office  cleared,  Peter  turned  to  his 
partners  and  said:  "Mr.  Curlew  came  here  with  a 


CLOUDS.  309 

message  which  he  thought   needed  the   protection  of  a 
revolver.     He  judged  rightly,  it  seems." 

"Are  you  hit?" 

"  I  felt  something  strike."  Peter  put  his  hand  to  his 
side.  He  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  felt  again.  Then  he 
pulled  out  a  little  sachet  from  his  breast-pocket,  and  as 
he  did  so,  a  flattened  bullet  dropped  to  the  floor.  Peter 
looked  into  the  sachet  anxiously.  The  bullet  had  only 
gone  through  the  lower  corner  of  the  four  photographs 
and  the  glove  1  Peter  laughed  happily.  "  I  had  a  gold 
coin  in  my  pocket,  and  the  bullet  struck  that.  Who  says 
that  a  luck-piece  is  nothing  but  a  superstition  ?  " 

"But,  Peter,  shan't  we  call  the  police?"  demanded 
Ogden,  still  looking  stunned. 

Curlew  moved  towards  the  door. 

"One  moment,"  said  Peter,  and  Curlew  stopped. 

"Ray,"  Peter  continued,  "I  am  faced  with  a  terrible 
question.  I  want  your  advice  ?  " 

"What,  Peter?" 

"A man  is  trying  to  force  me  to  stand  aside  and  permit 
a  political  wrong.  To  do  this,  he  threatens  to  publish 
lying  affidavits  of  worthless  scoundrels,  to  prove  a 
shameful  intimacy  between  a  married  woman  and  me." 

"Bosh,"  laughed  Ray.  "  He  can  publish  a  thousand 
and  no  one  would  believe  them  of  you." 

"  He  knows  that.  But  he  knows,  too,  that  no  matter 
how  untrue,  it  would  connect  her  name  with  a  subject 
shameful  to  the  purest  woman  that  ever  lived.  He  knows 
that  the  scavengers  of  gossip  will  repeat  it,  and  gloat 
over  it.  That  the  filthy  society  papers  will  harp  on  it  for 
years.  That  in  the  heat  of  a  political  contest,  the  par- 
tisans will  be  only  too  glad  to  believe  it  and  repeat  it. 
That  no  criminal  prosecution,  no  court  vindication,  will 
ever  quite  kill  the  story  as  regards  her.  And  so  he  hopes 
that,  rather  than  entail  this  on  a  woman  whom  I  love,  and 
on  her  husband  and  family,  I  will  refuse  a  nomination. 
I  know  of  such  a  case  in  Massachusetts,  where,  rather  than 
expose  a  woman  to  such  a  danger,  the  man  withdrew. 
What  should  I  do?" 

"  Do  ?     Fight  him.     Tell  him  to  do  his  worst. " 

Peter  put  his  hand  on  Ray's  shoulder. 

"Even  if — if — it  is  one  dear  to  us  both?" 

"  Peter  1" 


310  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Yes.  Do  you  remember  your  being  called  home  in 
our  Spanish  trip,  unexpectedly?  You  left  me  to  bring 
Miss  De  Voe,  and — Well.  They've  bribed,  or  forged 
affidavits  of  two  of  the  stewards  of  the  '  Majestic. ' ' 

Ray  tried  to  spring  forward  towards  Curlew.  But  Peter's 
hand  still  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  held  him  back.  "I 
started  to  kill  him,"  Peter  said  quietly,  "but  I  remem- 
bered he  was  nothing  but  the  miserable  go-between." 

"  My  God,  Peter  !     What  can  I  say  ?  " 

"Ray  !  The  stepping  aside  is  nothing  to  me.  It  was 
an  office  which  I  was  ready  to  take,  but  only  as  a  sacri- 
fice and  a  duty.  It  is  to  prevent  wrong  that  I  interfered, 
So  do  not  think  it  means  a  loss  to  me  to  retire. " 

"Peter,  do  what  you  intended  to  do.  We  must  not 
compromise  with  wrong  even  for  her  sake. " 

The  two  shook  hands.  "I  do  not  think  they  will  ever 
use  it,  Ray,"  said  Peter.  "But  I  may  be  mistaken,  and 
cannot  involve  you  in  the  possibility,  without  your  con- 
sent." 

"Of  course  they'll  use  it,"  cried  Ogden.  "Scoundrels 
who  could  think  of  such  a  thing,  will  use  it  without  hesi- 
tation/' 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "A  man  who  uses  a  coward's 
weapons,  is  a  coward  at  heart.  We  can  prevent  it,  I 
think."  Then  he  turned  to  Curlew.  "Tell  Mr.  Maguire 
about  this  interview.  Tell  him  that  I  spared  you,  because 
you  are  not  the  principal.  But  tell  him  from  me,  that  if  a 
word  is  breathed  against  Mrs.  Rivington,  I  swear  that  I'll 
search  for  him  till  I  find  him,  and  when  I  find  him  I'll  kill 
him  with  as  little  compunction  as  I  would  a  rattlesnake. " 
Peter  turned  and  going  to  his  dressing-room,  washed 
away  the  ink  from  his  hands. 

Curlew  shuffled  out  of  the  room,  and,  black  as  he  was, 
went  straight  to  the  Labor  headquarters  and  told  his  story. 

"And  he'll  do  it  too,  Mr.  Maguire,"  he  said.  "You 
should  have  seen  his  look  as  he  said  it,  and  as  he  stood 
over  me.  I  feel  it  yet. " 

"Do  you  think  he  means  it?"  said  Ray  to  Ogden, 
when  they  were  back  in  Ray's  room. 

"I  wouldn't  think  so  if  I  hadn't  seen  his  face  as  he 
stood  over  that  skunk.  But  if  ever  a  man  looked  murder 
lie  did  at  that  moment.  And  quiet  old  Peter  of  all  men  !  " 

"  We  must  talk  to  him.     Do  tell  him  that " 


SUNSHINE.  311 


"Do  you  dare  do  it?" 

"But  you ?" 

"I  don't.     Unless  he  speaks  I  shall- 


"  Ray  and  Ogden,"  said  a  quiet  voice,  "I  wish  you 
-would  write  out  what  you  have  just  seen  and  heard.  It 
may  be  needed  in  the  future." 

"Peter,  let  me  speak,"  cried  Ray.  "You  mustn't  do 
what  you  said.  Think  of  such  an  end  to  your  life.  No 
matter  what  that  scoundrel  does,  don't  end  your  life  on 
a  gallows.  It " 

Peter  held  up  his  hand.  ' '  You  don't  know  the  American 
people,  Ray.  If  Maguire  uses  that  lying  stoj-y,  I  can  kill 
him,  and  there  isn't  a  jury  in  the  country  which,  when 
the  truth  was  told,  wouldn't  acquit  me.  Maguire  knows 
it,  too.  We  have  heard  the  last  of  that  threat,  I'm  sure." 

Peter  went  back  to  his  office.  "I  don't  wonder,"  he 
thought,  as  he  stood  looking  at  the  ink-stains  on  his  desk 
and  floor,  "  that  people  think  politics  nothing  but  trickery 
and  scoundrelism.  Yet  such  vile  weapons  and  slanders 
would  not  be  used  if  there  were  not  people  vile  and  mean 
enough  at  heart  to  let  such  things  influence  them.  The 
fault  is  not  in  politics.  It  is  in  humanity." 


CHAPTER   L. 
SUNSHINE, 

BUT  just  as  Peter  was  about  to  continue  this  rather  un- 
satisfactory train  of  thought,  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a 
flattened  birilet  lying  on  the  floor.  He  picked  it  up,  with 
a  smile.  "I  knew  she  was  my  good  luck,"  he  said. 
Then  he  took  out  the  sachet  again,  and  kissed  the  dented 
and  bent  coin.  Then  he  examined  the  photographs. 
"  Not  even  the  dress  is  cut  through,"  he  said  gleefully, 
looking  at  the  full  length.  "It  couldn't  have  hit  in  a  bet- 
ter place."  When  he  came  to  the  glove,  however,  he 
grieved  a  little  over  it.  Even  this  ceased  to  trouble  him 
the  next  moment,  for  a  telegram  was  laid  on  his  desk.  It 
merely  said,  "Come  by  all  means.  W.  C.  D'A."  Yet  that 
was  enough  to  make  Peter  drop  thoughts,  work,  and 
everything  for  a  time.  He  sat  at  his  desk,  gazing  at  a 


3X2  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

blank  wall,  and  thinking  of  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes. 
But  his  expression  bore  no  resemblance  to  the  one  for- 
merly assumed  when  that  particular  practice  had  been 
habitual. 

Nor  was  this  expression  the  only  difference  in  this  day, 
to  mark  the  change  from  Peter  past  to  Peter  present. 
For  instead  of  manoeuvring  to  make  Watts  sit  on  the  back 
seat,  when  he  was  met  by  the  trap  late  that  afternoon,  at 
Newport,  he  took  possession  of  that  seat  in  the  coolest 
possible  manner,  leaving  the  one  by  the  driver  to  Watts. 
Nor  did  Peter  look  away  from  the  girl  on  that  back  seat. 
Quite  the  contrary.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  that  a  thou- 
sand eyes  would  have  been  any  too  much.  Peter's  three 
months  of  gloom  vanished,  and  became  merely  a  contrast 
to  heighten  his  present  joy.  A  sort  of  "  shadow-box." 

He  had  had  the  nicest  kind  of  welcome  from  his 
"  friend."  If  the  manner  had  not  been  quite  so  absolute- 
ly frank  as  of  yore,  yet  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  her 
pleasure  in  seeing  Peter.  "It's  very  nice  to  see  you 
again,"  she  had  said  while  shaking  hands.  "  I  hoped  you 
would  come  quickly."  Peter  was  too  happy  to  say  any- 
thing in  reply.  He  merely  took  possession  of  that  vacant 
seat,  and  rested  his  eyes  in  silence  till  Watts,  after  climb- 
ing into  place,  asked  him  how  the  journey  to  Newport 
had  been. 

"Lovelier  than  ever,"  said  Peter,  abstractedly.  "I 
didn't  think  it  was  possible." 

"Eh  ?  "  said  Watts,  turning  with  surprise  on  his  face. 

But  Leonore  did  not  look  surprised.  She  only  looked 
the  other  way,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  were  curving 
upwards. 

"  The  journey  ?  "  queried  Watts. 

"You  mean  Newport,  don't  you?  "  said  Leonore  help- 
fully, when  Peter  said  nothing.  Leonore  was  looking 
out  from  under  her  lashes — r;t  things  in  general,  of  course. 

Peter  said  nothing.  Peter  was  not  going  to  lie  about 
what  he  had  meant,  and  Leonore  liked  him  all  the  better 
for  not  using  the  deceiving  loophole  she  had  opened. 

Watts  said,  "Oh,  of  course.  It  improves  every  year. 
But  wasn't  the  journey  hot,  old  man  ? " 

"I  didn't  notice,"  said  Peter. 

"  Didn't  notice  1  And  this  one  of  the  hottest  days  of 
the  year." 


SUNSHINE.  313 

"  I  had  something  else  to  think  about,"  explained  Peter. 

"  Politics  ?  "  asked  Watts. 

"Oh,  Peter,"  said  Leonore,  "  we've  been  so  interested 
in  all  the  talk.  It  was  just  as  maddening  as  could  be, 
how  hard  it  was  to  get  New  York  papers  way  out  west. 
I'm  awfully  in  the  dark  about  some  things.  I've  asked  a 
lot  of  people  here  about  it,  but  nobody  seems  to  know 
anything.  Or  if  they  do,  they  laugh  at  me.  I  met  Con- 
gressman Pell  yesterday  at  the  Tennis  Tournament,  and 
thought  he  would  tell  me  all  about  it.  But  he  was  horrid  I 
His  whole  manner  said  :  *  I  can't  waste  real  talk  on  a  girl* 
I  told  him  I  was  a  great  friend  of  yours,  and  that  you 
would  tell  me  when  you  came,  but  he  only  laughed  and 
said,  he  had  no  doubt  you  would,  for  you  were  famous 
for  your  indiscretion.  I  hate  men  who  laugh  at  women 
the  moment  they  try  to  talk  as  men  do. " 

"I  think,"  said  Peter,  "we'll  have  to  turn  Pell  down. 
A  Congressman  who  laughs  at  one  of  my  friends  won't  do. " 

"I  really  wish  you  would.  That  would  teach  him," 
said  Leonore,  vindictively.  "A  man  who  laughs  at 
women  can't  be  a  good  Congressman." 

"  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Peter.  "  I  don't  want 
to  retire  him,  because — because  I  like  his  mother.  But  I 
will  tell  you  something  for  you  to  tell  him,  that  will  as- 
tonish him  very  much,  and  make  him  want  to  know  who 
told  you,  and  so  you  can  tease  him  endlessly." 

"Oh,  Peter !  "  said  Leonore.    "  You  are  the  nicest  man." 

"What's  that?  "  asked  Watts. 

"  It's  a  great  secret,"  said  Peter.  "I  shall  only  tell  it 
to  Miss  D'Alloi,  so  that  if  it  leaks  beyond  Pell,  I  shall 
know  whom  to  blame  for  it. " 

"  Goody  !  "  cried  Leonore,  giving  a  little  bounce  for  joy. 

"  Is  it  about  that  famous  dinner?  "  inquired  Watts. 

"No." 

"  Peter,  I'm  so  curious  about  that.  Will  you  tell  ms 
what  you  did  ?  " 

"I  ate  a  dinner,"  said  Peter  smiling. 

"* Now  don't  be  like  Mr.  Pell,"  said  Leonore,  reproving- 
ly, "  or  I'll  take  back  what  I  just  said." 

"  Did  you  roar,  and  did  the  tiger  put  its  tail  between  its 
legs  ?  "  asked  Watts. 

'That  is  the  last  thing  our  friends,  the  enemies,  have 
found,"  said  Peter. 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

" You  will  tell  me  about  it,  won't  you,  Peter?"  said 
Leonore,  ingratiatingly. 

"Have  you  a  mount  for  me,  Watts,  for  to-morrow? 
Mutineer  comes  by  boat  to-night,  but  won't  be  here  till 
noon. " 

"  Yes.     I've  one  chap  up  to  your  weight,  I  think." 

"  I  don't  like  dodgers,"  said  Leonore,  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  drawn  down. 

"I  was  not  dodging,"  said  Peter.  ll  I  only  was  asking 
a  preliminary  question.  If  you  will  get  up,  before  break- 
fast, and  ride  with  me,  I  will  tell  you  everything  that 
actually  occurred  at  that  dinner.  You  will  be  the  only 
person,  I  think,  who  wasn't  there,  who  knows."  It  was 
shameful  and  open  bribery,  but  bosses  are  shameful  and 
open  in  their  doings,  so  Peter  was  only  living  up  to  his  role. 

The  temptation  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  Leonore 
said,  "Of  course  I  will,"  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
reversed  their  position.  But  she  said  to  herself :  ' '  I  shall 
have  to  snub  you  in  something  else  to  make  up  for  it." 
Peter  was  in  for  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  scmev/here. 

Leonore  had  decidec1  jrst  how  she  was  going  to  treat 
Peter.  To  begin  with,  she  intended  to  accentuate  that 
"five  years"  in  various  ways.  Then  she  would  be  very 
frank  and  friendly,  just  as  long  as  he,  too,  would  keep 
within  those  limits,  but  if  Peter  even  verged  on  anything 
more,  she  intended  to  leave  him  to  himself,  just  long 
enough  to  show  him  that  such  remarks  as  his  "  not  caring 
to  be  friends,"  brought  instant  and  dire  punishment. 
"And  I  shan't  let  him  speak,"  Leonore  decided,  "no  mat- 
ter if  he  wants  to.  For  if  he  does,  I'll  have  to  say  '  no/ 
and  then  he'll  go  back  to  New  York  and  sulk,  and  perhaps 
never  come  near  me  again,  since  he's  so  obstinate,  while 
I  want  to  stay  friends. "  Many  such  campaigns  have  been 
planned  by  the  party  of  the  first  part.  But  the  trouble  is 
that,  usually,  the  ^>art;/  01  the  second  part  also  has  a  plan, 
which  ei*tirelv  clisconcerts  the  first.  As  the  darkey  re- 
marked:  "Yissah.  My  dog  he  wud  a  beat,  if  it  hadn't 
bin  foh  do  uddc;  clog." 

Pete:  found  r.~,  much  contrast  in  his  evening,  as  com- 
pared with  hie  morning^  as  there  was  in  his  own  years. 
After  dinner,  Leonore  said  : 

"  I  dWi-.jrs  play  billiards  with  papa.  Will  you  play  too  ?  M 

"I  d,or/t  knov/  how,"  said  Peter. 


SUNSHINE.  3ig 

"  Then  it's  time  you  learned.  I'll  take  you  on  my  side, 
because  papa  always  beats  me.  I'll  teach  you." 

So  there  was  the  jolliest  of  hours  spent  in  this  way,  all 
of  them  laughing  at  Peter's  shots,  and  at  Leonore's  at- 
tempts to  show  him  how.  "Every  woman  ought  to  play 
billiards,"  Peter  thought,  when  it  was  ended.  "It's  the 
most  graceful  sight  I've  seen  in  years. " 

Leonore  said,  "  You  get  the  ideas  very  nicely,  but  you 
hit  much  too  hard.  You  can't  hit  a  ball  too  softly.  You 
pound  it  as  if  you  were  trying  to  smash  it. " 

"It's  something  I  really  must  learn,"  said  Peter,  who 
had  refused  over  and  over  again  in  the  past. 

"  I'll  teach  you,  while  you  are  here,"  said  Leonore. 

Peter  did  not  refuse  this  time. 

Nor  did  he  refuse  another  lesson.  When  they  had 
drifted  into  the  drawing-room,  Leonore  asked  :  "  Have 
you  been  learning  how  to  valse?  " 

Peter  smiled  at  so  good  an  American  using  so  European 
a  word,  but  said  seriously,  "No.  I've  been  too  busy." 

"That's  a  shame,"  said  Leonore,  "because  there  are 
to  be  two  dances  this  week,  and  mamma  has  written  to 
get  you  cards." 

"Is  it  very  hard  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"No,"  said  Leonore.  "It's  as  easy  as  breathing,  and 
much  nicer." 

"Couldn't  you  teach  me  that,  also  ?  " 

"  Easily.  Mamma,  will  you  play  a  valse  ?  Now  see. " 
Leonore  drew  her  skirts  back  with  one  hand,  so  as  to  show 
the  little  feet,  and  said  :  "one,  two,  three,  so.  One,  two, 
three,  so.  Now  do  that. " 

Peter  had  hoped  that  the  way  to  learn  dancing  was  to 
take  the  girl  in  one's  arms.  But  he  recognized  that  this 
would  follow.  So  he  set  to  work  manfully  to  imitate  that 
dainty  little  glide.  It  seemed  easy  as  she  did  it.  But  it 
was  not  so  easy  when  he  tried  it 

"Oh,  you  clumsy,"  said  Leonore  laughing.  "See. 
One,  two,  three,  so.  One,  two,  three,  so." 

Peter  forgot  to  notice  the  step,  in  his  admiration  of  the 
little  feet  and  the  pretty  figure. 

"Well,"  said  Leonore  after  a  pause,  "are  you  going  to 
do  that  ? " 

So  Peter  tried  again,  and  again,  and  again.  Peter 
would  have  done  it  all  night,  with  absolute  contentment. 


316  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

so  long-  as  Leonore,  after  every  failure,  would  show  him 
the  right  way  in  her  own  person. 

Finally  she  said,  "Now  take  my  hands.  No.  Way 
apart,  so  that  I  can  see  your  feet.  Now.  We'll  try  it  to- 
gether. One,  two,  change.  One,  two,  change.7' 

Peter  thought  this  much  better,  and' was  ready  to  go  on 
till  strength  failed.  But  after  a  time,  Leonore  said, 
"Now.  We'll  try  it  the  true  way.  Take  my  hand  so 
and  put  your  arm  so.  That's  the  way.  Only  never  hold 
a  girl  too  close.  We  hate  it.  Yes.  That's  it.  Now, 
mamma.  Again.  One,  two,  three.  One,  two,  three. " 

This  was  heavenly,  Peter  thought,  and  could  have  wept 
over  the  shortness,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  of  this  part  of  the 
lesson. 

But  it  ended,  and  Leonore  said:  "  If  you'll  practice 
that  in  your  room,  with  a  bolster,  you'll  get  on  very  fast" 

"  I  always  make  haste  slowly,"  said  Peter,  not  taking 
to  the  bolster  idea  at  all  kindly.  "Probably  you  can  find 
time  to-morrow  for  another  lesson,  and  I'll  learn  muck 
quicker  with  you." 

"I'll  see." 

"  And  will  you  give  me  some  waltzes  at  the  dances?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Leonore.  "  You  shall 
have  the  dances  the  other  men  don't  ask  of  me.  But  you 
don't  dance  well  enough,  in  case  I  can  get  a  better 
partner.  I  love  valsing  too  much  to  waste  one  with  a 
poor  dancer." 

A  moment  before  Peter  thought  waltzing  the  most  ex-* 
quisite  pleasure  the  world  contained.  But  he  suddenly 
changed  his  mind,  and  concluded  it  was  odious. 

"  Nevertheless,"  he  decided,  "I  will  learn  how." 


CHAPTER  LI. 
THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 

PETER  had  his  ride  the  next  morning,  and  had  a  very 
interested  listener  to  his  account  of  that  dinner.  The 
listener,  speaking  from  vast  political  knowledge,  told  him 
at.  the  end,,  "  You  did  just  right.  I  thoroughly  approve  of 
you." 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  317 

"  That  takes  a  great  worry  off  my  mind,"  said  Peter 
soberly.  "  I  \*  as  afraid,  since  we  were  to  be  such  friends, 
and  you  wanted  my  help  in  the  whirligig  this  winter,  that 
you  might  not  like  my  possibly  having  to  live  in  Albany." 

"  Can't  you  live  in  New  York?  "  said  Leonore,  looking 
horrified. 

"No." 

"  Then  I  don't  like  it  at  all," said  Leonore.  "It's  no 
good  having  friends  if  they  don't  live  near  one." 

"That's  what  I  think,"  said  Peter.  "I  suppose  I 
couldn't  tempt  you  to  come  and  keep  house  for  me?" 

"Now  I  must  snub  him,"  thought  Leonore.  "No," 
she  said,  "It  will  be  bad  enough  to  do  that  five  years  from 
now,  for  the  man  I  love."  She  looked  out  from  under  her 
eyelashes  to  see  if  her  blow  had  been  fatal,  and  concluded 
from  the  glumness  in  Peter's  face,  that  she  really  had 
been  too  cruel.  So  she  added  :  "But  you  may  give  me 
a  ball,  and  we'll  all  come  up  and  stay  a  week  with  you." 

Peter  relaxed  a  little,  but  he  said  dolefully,  "I  don't 
know  what  I  shall  do.  I  shall  be  in  such  need  of  your 
advice  in  politics  and  housekeeping." 

"  Well,"  said  Leonore,  "  if  you  really  find  that  you  can't 
get  on  without  help,  we'll  make  it  two  weeks.  But 
you  must  get  up  toboggan  parties,  and  other  nice  things." 

"I  wonder  what  the  papers  will  say,"  thought  Peter,  "if 
a  governor  gives  toboggan  parties  ?  " 

After  the  late  breakfast,  Peter  was  taken  down  to  see  the 
tournament.  He  thought  he  would  not  mind  it,  since  he 
was  allowed  to  sit  next  Leonore.  But  he  did.  First  he 
wished  that  she  wouldn't  pay  so  much  attention  to  the 
score.  Then  that  the  men  who  fluttered  round  her  would 
have  had  the  good  taste  to  keep  away.  It  enraged  Peter 
to  see  how  perfectly  willing  she  was  to  talk  and  chat 
about  things  of  which  he  knew  nothing,  and  how  more 
than  willing  the  men  were.  And  then  she  laughed  at 
what  they  said  I 

"That's  fifteen-love,  isn't  it?"  Leonore  asked  him 
presently. 

"  He  doesn't  look  over  fifteen,"  actually  growled  Peter. 
"  I  don't  know  whether  he's  in  love  or  not.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  he  is.  Boys  fifteen  years  old  always  do." 

Leonore  forgot  the  score,  even,  in  her  surprise.  "Why," 
she  said,  "you  growl  just  like  B£tise  (the  mastiff), 


318  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Now  I  know  what  the  papers  mean  when  they  say  you 
roar." 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  "  it  makes  me  cross  to  see  a  lot  of 
boys  doing  nothing  but  hit  a  small  ball,  and  a  lot  more 
looking  at  them  and  thinking  that  it's  worth  doing." 
Which  was  a  misstatement.  It  was  not  that  which  made 
Peter  mad. 

"  Haven't  you  ever  played  tennis  ?  " 
"  Never.     I  don't  even  know  how  to  score." 
"Dear  me,"  said  Leonore.      "  You're   dreadfully  illit- 
erate." 

"  I  know  it,"  growled  Peter,  "  I  don't  belong  here,  and 
have  no  business  to  come.  I'm  a  ward  boss,  and  my 
place  is  in  saloons.  Don't  hesitate  to  say  it. " 

All  this  was  very  foolish,  but  it  was  real  to  Peter  for  the 
moment,  and  he  looked  straight  ahead  with  lines  on  his  face 
which  Leonore  had  never  seen  before.  He  ought  to  have 
been  ordered  to  go  off  by  himself  till  he  should  be  in  better 
mood. 

Instead  Leonore  turned  from  the  tennis,  and  said  : 
"Please  don't  talk  that  way,  Peter.  You  know  I  don't 
think  that."  Leonore  had  understood  the  misery  which 
lay  back  of  the  growl.  "  Poor  fellow,"  she  thought,  "  I 
must  cheer  him  up."  So  she  stopped  looking  at  the 
tennis.  "See,"  she  said,  "there  are  Miss  Winthrop  and 
Mr.  Pell.  Do  take  me  over  to  them  and  let  me  spring  my 
surprise.  You  talk  to  Miss  Winthrop." 

"Why,  Peter  !  "  said  Pell.  "When  did  you  come  ?  " 
"Last  night.  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Winthrop  ?  "  Then 
for  two  minutes  Peter  talked,  or  rather  listened,  to  that 
young  lady,  though  sighing  internally.  Then,  Laus  Deo  } 
up  came  the  poor  little  chap,  whom  Peter  had  libelled  in 
age  and  affections,  only  ten  minutes  before,  and  set  Peter 
free.  He  turned  to  see  how  Leonore's  petard  was  pro- 
gressing, to  find  her  and  Pell  deep  in  tennis.  But  just 
as  he  was  going  to  expose  his  ignorance  on.  that  game, 
Leonore  said  : 

"  Mr.  Pell,  what  do  you  think  of  the  political  outlook  ?  " 
Pell  sighed  internally.      "  You  can  read  it  in  the  papers," 
he  said. 

"No.  I  want  your  opinion.  Especially  about  the 
great  departure  the  Democratic  Convention  is  going  to 
make." 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE,  319 

"You  mean  in  endorsing  Maguire?  " 

Leonore  began  to  visibly  swell  in  importance.  "Of 
course  not,"  she  said,  contemptuously.  ' '  Every  one  knows 
that  that  was  decided  against  at  the  Manhattan  dinner. 
I  mean  the  unusual  resolution  about  the  next  senator." 

Pell  ceased  to  sigh.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean? " 
he  said. 

"Not  really?"  said  Leonore  incredulously,  her  nose 
cocking  a  little  more  airily.  "I  thought  of  course  you 
would  know  about  it.  I'm  so  surprised  !  " 

Pell  looked  at  her  half  quizzingly,  and  half  question- 
ingly.  "What  is  the  resolution ?  " 

"Naming  a  candidate  for  the  vacancy  for  the  Senate." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Pell,  laughing.  "The  convention 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  senators.  The  Legislature 
elects  them."  He  thought,  "Why  can't  women,  if  they 
will  talk  politics,  at  least  learn  the  ABC." 

"  Yes,"  said  Leonore,  "  but  this  is  a  new  idea.  The 
Senate  has  behaved  so  badly,  that  the  party  leaders  think 
it  will  be  better  to  make  it  a  more  popular  body  by  hav- 
ing the  New  York  convention  nominate  a  man,  and  then 
they  intend  to  make  the  legislature  elect  him.  If  the 
other  states  will  only  follow  New  York's  lead,  it  may 
make  the  Senate  respectable  and  open  to  public  opinion." 

Pell  sniffed  obviously.  "In  what  fool  paper  did  you 
read  that  ? " 

"  I  didn't  read  it,"  said  Leonore,  her  eyes  dancing  with 
delight.  "The papers  are  always  behind  the  times.  But 
I  didn't  think  that  you  would  be,  since  you  are  to  be 
named  in  the  resolution." 

Pell  looked  at  her  blankly.      "What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  know  that  the  Convention  will  pass  a  res- 
olution, naming  you  for  next  senator  ?  "  said  Leonore, 
with  both  wonder  and  pity  in  her  face  and  voice. 

"Who  told  you  that  ?"  said  Pell,  with  an  amount  of 
interest  blended  with  doubt  that  was  a  decided  contrast  to 
a  moment  ago. 

" That's  telling,"  said  Leonore.  "You  know,  Mr.  Pell, 
that  one  mustn't  tell  people  who  are  outside  the  party 
councils  everything." 

"  I  believe  you  are  trying  to  stuff  me,"  said  Pell.  "  If 
it  is  so,  or  anything  like  it,  you  wouldn't  know." 

"Oh,"  said  Leonore,  tantalizingly,  "I  could  tell  you  a 


320 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


great  deal  more  than  that.  But  of  course  you  don't  care 
to  talk  politics  with  a  girl. " 

Pell  weakened.      "Tell  me  who  told  you  about  it ? " 

"  I  think  we  must  go  home  to  lunch,"  said  Leonore, 
turning  to  Peter,  who  had  enjoyed  Leonore's  triumph 
almost  as  much  as  she  had. 

"  Peter/'  said  Pell,  "have  you  heard  what  Miss  D'Alloi 
~has  been  saying  ?  " 

"Part  of  it." 

"Where  can  she  have  picked  it  up  ?  " 

"I  met  Miss  D'Alloi  at  a  lunch  at  the  White  House, last 
June,"  said  Peter  seriously,  "and  she,  and  the  President, 
and  I,  talked  politics.  Politically,  Miss  D'Alloi  is  rather  a 
knowing  person.  I  hope  you  haven't  been  saying  any- 
thing indiscreet,  Miss  D'Alloi  ? " 

"I'm  afraid  I  have,"  laughed  Leonore,  triumphantly 
adding,  "but  I  won't  tell  anything  more." 

Pell  looked  after  them  as  they  went  towards  the  car- 
riage. "  How  extraordinary  !  "  he  said.  "  She  couldn't 
have  it  from  Peter.  He  tells  nothing.  Where  the  deuce 
did  she  get  it,  and  is  it  so  ?  "  Then  he  said  :  "Senator 
Van  Brunt  Pell,"  with  a  roll  on  all  the  r's.  "  That  sounds 
well.  I  wonder  if  there's  anything  in  it  ?  " 

"I  think,"  said  Leonore  to  Peter,  triumphantly,  "that 
he  would  like  to  have  talked  politics.  But  he'll  get 
nothing  but  torture  from  me  if  he  tries. " 

It  began  to  dawn  on  Peter  that  Leonore  did  not,  despite 
her  frank  manner,  mean  all  she  said.  He  turned  to  her, 
and  asked  : 

"Are  you  really  in  earnest  in  saying  that  you'll  refuse 
every  man  who  asks  you  to  marry  him  within  five 
years  ?  " 

Leonore's  triumph  scattered  to  the  four^winds.  "  What 
an  awfully  impudent  question,"  she  thought,  "  after  my 
saying  it  so  often.  What  shall  I  answer  ?  "  She  looked 
Peter  in  the  eye  with  severity.  "  I  shan't  refuse,"  she 
said,  "because  I  shan't  even  let  him  speak.  If  any  man 
dares  to  attempt  it,  I'll  tell  him  frankly  I  don't  care  to 
listen." 

"  She  really  means  it,"  sighed  Peter  internally.  "  Why 
is  it,  that  the  best  girls  don't  care  to  marry  ?  "  Peter  became 
very  cross,  and,  what  is  worse,  looked  it. 

Nor  was  Leonore  much  better.      "  There,"  she  said,  "  I 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  321 

knew  just  how  it  would  be.  He's  getting  sulky  already. 
He  isn't  nice  any  more.  The  best  thing  will  be  to  let  him 
speak,  for  then  he'll  go  back  to  New  York,  and  won't 
bother  me. "  The  corners  of  her  mouth  drew  away  down, 
and  life  became  very  gray. 

So  "the  best  of  friends"  rode  home  from  the  Casino, 
without  so  much  as  looking  at  each  other,  much  less 
speaking.  Clearly  Peter  was  right.  There  was  no  good 
in  trying  to  be  friends  any  longer. 

Precedent  or  habit,  however,  was  too  strong  to  sustain 
this  condition  long.  First  Leonore  had  to  be  helped  out 
of  the  carriage.  This  was  rather  pleasant,  for  she  had  to 
give  Peter  her  hand,  and  so  life  became  less  unworth 
living  to  Peter.  Then  the  footman  at  the  door  gave  Peter 
two  telegraphic  envelopes  of  the  bulkiest  kind,  and  Leonore 
too  began  to  take  an  interest  in  life  again. 

"What  are  they  about?  "  she  asked. 

"The  Convention.  I  came  off  so  suddenly  that  some 
details  were  left  unarranged. " 

"Read  them  out  loud,"  she  said  calmly,  as  Peter  broke 
the  first  open. 

Peter  smiled  at  her,  and  said  :  "  If  I  do,  will  you  give 
me  another  waltzing  lesson  after  lunch  ?  " 

"Don't  bargain,"  said  Leonore,  disapprovingly. 

"Very  well,"  said  Peter,  putting  the  telegrams  in  his 
pocket,  and  turning  towards  the  stairs. 

Leonore  let  him  go  up  to  the  first  landing.  But  as  soon 
as  she  became  convinced  that  he  was  really  going  to 
his  room,  she  said,  "  Peter." 

Peter  turned  and  looked  down  at  the  pretty  figure  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  He  came  down  again.  When  he  had 
reached  the  bottom  he  said,  "  Well  ? " 

Leonore  was  half  angry,  and  half  laughing.  "You 
ought  to  want  to  read  them  to  me,"  she  said,  "  since  we 
are  such  friends." 

"  I  do,"  said  Peter.  "  And  you  ought  to  want  to  teach 
me  to  waltz,  since  we  are  such  friends. " 

"But  I  don't  like  the  spirit,"  said  Leonore. 

Peter  laughed.  "  Nor  I,"  he  said.  "Still,  I'll  prove  I'm 
the  better,  by  reading  them  to  you. " 

"Now  I  will  teach  him,"  said  Leonore  to  herself. 

Peter  unfolded  the  many  sheets.  "This  is  very  secret, 
of  course,"  he  said 

21 


322 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 


"Yes."  Leonore  looked  round  the  hall  as  if  she  was  a 
conspirator.  "Come  to  the  window-seat  upstairs/'  she 
whispered,  and  led  the  way.  When  they  had  ensconced 
themselves  there,  and  drawn  the  curtains,  she  said,  ' '  Now. " 

"You  had  better  sit  nearer  me,"  said  Peter,  "so  that  I 
can  whisper  it. " 

"No,"  said  Leonore.  "No  one  can  hear  us."  She 
thought,  "I'd  snub  yon  for  that,  if  I  wasn't  afraid  you 
wouldn't  read  it. " 

"  You  understand  that  you  are  not  to  repeat  this  to  any 
one."  Peter  was  smiling-  over  something. 

Leonore  said,  "Yes,"  half  crossly  and  half  eagerly. 

So  Peter  read  : 

"  Use  Hudson  knowledge  counties  part  not  belief  local  twenty  imbe- 
cility certified  of  yet  till  yesterdc;  /  noon  whose  Malta  could  accurately 
it  at  seventeen.  Potomac  give  throw  Haymarket  estimated  Moselle 
thirty-three  to  into  fortify  through  jurist  arrived  down  right " 

"I  won't  be  treated  so  !  "  interrupted  Leonore,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  said  Peter,  still  smiling.  "I'm 
reading  it  to  you,  as  you  asked. " 

"  No  you  are  not.     You  are  just  making  up." 

"  No,"  said  Peter.      "  It's  all  here. " 

"Let  me  see  it."  Leonore  shifted  her  seat  so  as  to 
overlook  Peter. 

"That's  only  two  pages,"  said  Peter,  holding  them  so 
that  Leonore  had  to  sit  very  close  to  him  to  see.  "  There 
are  eighteen  more." 

Leonore  looked  at  them.  "Was  it  written  by  a  luna- 
tic ? "  she  asked. 

"No."  Peter  looked  at  the  end.  "It's  from  Green. 
Remember.  You  are  not  to  repeat  it  to  any  one." 

'  Luncheon  is  served,  Miss  D'Alloi,"  said  a  footman. 

'  Bother  luncheon,"  thought  Peter. 

'Please  tell  me  what  it  means?"  said  Leonore,  rising. 

'I  can't  do  that,  till  I  get  the  key  and  decipher  it." 

'Oh  !  "  cried  Leonore,  clapping  her  hands  in  delight. 
"It's  a  cipher.  How  tremendously  interesting  !  We'll 
go  at  it  right  after  lunch  and  decipher  it  together,  won't 
we?" 

"  After  the  dancing  lesson,  you  mean,  don't  you  ?  "  sug- 
gested Peter. 


A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  323 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  going  to  do  it?  "asked 
Leonore. 

"You  told  me." 

"Never !    I  didn't  say  a  word. " 

"You  looked  several/'  said  Peter. 

Leonore  regarded  him  very  seriously.  "You  are  not 
*  Peter  Simple  '  a  bit,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  like  deep  men." 
She  turned  and  went  to  her  room.  "I  really  must  be 
careful,"  she  told  the  enviable  sponge  as  it  passed  over 
her  face,  "he's  a  man  who  needs  very  special  treat- 
ment. I  ought  to  send  him  right  back  to  New  York. 
But  I  do  so  want  to  know  about  the  politics.  No.  I'll 
keep  friends  till  the  campaign's  finished.  Then  he'll  have 
to  live  in  Albany,  and  that  will  make  it  all  right.  Let  me 
see.  He  said  the  governor  served  three  years.  That  isn't 
five,  but  perhaps  he'll  have  become  sensible  before  then." 

As  for  Peter,  he  actually  whistled  during  his  ablutions, 
which  was  something  he  had  not  done  for  many  years. 
He  could  not  quite  say  why,  but  it  represented  his 
mood  better  than  did  his  earlier  growl 


CHAPTER  LIL 
A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL. 

PETER  had  as  glorious  an  afternoon  as  he  had  had  a  bad 
morning.  First  he  danced  a  little.  Then  the  two  sat  at 
the  big  desk  in  the  deserted  library  and  worked  together 
over  those  very  complex  dispatches  till  they  had  them 
translated.  Then  they  had  to  discuss  their  import.  Fi- 
nally they  had  to  draft  answers  and  translate  them  into 
cipher.  All  this  with  their  heads  very  close  together,  and 
an  utter  forgetfulness  on  the  part  of  a  certain  personage 
that  snubbing  rather  than  politics  was  her  "  plan  of  cam- 
paign." But  Leonore  began  to  feel  that  she  was  a  polit- 
ical power  herself,  and  so  forgot  her  other  schemes. 
When  they  had  the  answering  dispatches  fairly  transcribed, 
she  looked  up  at  Peter  and  said  : 

"  I  think  we've  done  that  very  well,"  in  the  most  ap- 
proving voice.  "Do  you  think  they'll  do  as  we  tefl 
them  ? " 


3*4 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


Peter  looked  down  into  that  dearest  of  faces,  gazing  at 
him  so  frankly  and  with  such  interest,  so  very  near  his, 
and  wondered  what  deed  was  noble  or  great  enough  to  win 
a  kiss  from  those  lips.  Several  times  that  afternoon,  it  had 
seemed  to  him  that  he  could  not  keep  himself  from  lean- 
ing over  and  taking  one.  He  even  went  so  far  now  as  to 
speculate  on  exactly  what  Leonore  would  do  if  he  did. 
Fortunately  his  face  was  not  given  to  expressing  his 
thoughts.  Leonore  never  dreamed  how  narrow  an  escape 
she  had.  "If  only  she  wouldn't  be  so  friendly  and  con- 
fiding," groaned  Peter,  even  while  absolutely  happy  in  her 
mood.  "I  can't  do  it,  when  she  trusts  me  so." 

"Well,"  said  Leonore,  "perhaps  when  you've  done 
staring  at  me,  you'll  answer  my  question." 

"  I  think  they'll  do  as  we  tell  them,"  smiled  Peter.  "  But 
we'll  get  word  to-morrow  about  Dutchess  and  Steuben. 
Then  we  shall  know  better  how  the  land  lies,  and  can  talk 
plainer." 

"Will  there  be  more  ciphers, to-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes."  To  himself  Peter  said,  "I  must  write  Green 
and  the  rest  to  telegraph  me  every  day. " 

"  Now  we'll  have  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  Leonore.  "  I  like 
politics." 

"Then  you  would  like  Albany,"  said  Peter,  putting  a 
chair  for  her  by  the  little  tea-table. 

"I  wouldn't  live  in  Albany  for  the  whole  world,"  said 
Leonore,  resuming  her  old  self  with  horrible  rapidity. 
But  just  then  she  burnt  her  finger  with  the  match  with 
which  she  was  lighting  the  lamp,  and  her  cruelty  vanished 
in  a  wail.  "  Oh  !  "  she  cried.  "  How  it  hurts." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Peter  sympathetically. 

The  little  hand  was  held  up.  "  It  does  hurt,"  said 
Leonore,  who  saw  that  there  was  a  painful  absence  of  all 
signs  of  injury,  and  feared  Peter  would  laugh  at  such  a 
burn  after  those  he  had  suffered. 

But  Peter  treated  it  very  seriously.  "  I'm  sure  it  does," 
he  said,  taking  possession  of  the  hand.  ' '  And  I  know  how 
it  hurts."  He  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  little  thumb. 
Then  he  didn't  care  a  scrap  whether  Leonore  liked  Albany 
or  not. 

"I  won't  snub  you  this  time,"  said  Leonore  to  herself, 
"because  you  didn't  laugh  at  me  for  it." 

Peter's  evening  was  not  so  happy.     Leonore  told  him 


A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  325 

as  they  rose  from  dinner  that  she  was  going  to  a  dance. 
''We  have  permission  to  take  you.  Do  you  care  to  go  ?  n 

"  Yes.     If  you'll  give  me  some  dances. " 

"  I've  told  you  once  that  I'll  only  give  you  the  ones 
not  taken  by  better  dancers.  If  you  choose  to  stay  round 
I'll  take  you  for  those." 

"  Do  you  ever  have  a  dance  over  ? "  asked  Peter,  marvel- 
ling at  such  a  possibility. 

"I've  only  been  to  one  dance.     I  didn't  have  at  that." 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  growling  a  little,  "  I'll  go." 

"  Oh,"  said  Leonore,  calmly,  "  don't  put  yourself  out  on 
my  account." 

"  I'm  not,"  growled  Peter.  "  I'm  doing  it  to  please  my- 
self." Then  he  laughed,  so  Leonore  laughed  too. 

After  a  game  of  billiards  they  all  went  to  the  dance.  As 
they  entered  the  hall,  Peter  heard  his  name  called  in  a 
peculiar  voice  behind.  He  turned  and  saw  Dorothy. 

Dorothy  merely  said,  "  Peter  !  "  again.  But  Peter  under- 
stood that  explanations  were  in  order.  He  made  no  at- 
tempt to  dodge. 

"Dorothy,"  he  said  softly,  giving  a  glance  at  Leonore, 
to  see  that  she  was  out  of  hearing,  "when  you  spent 
that  summer  with  Miss  De  Voe,  did  Ray  come  down  every 
week  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Would  he  have  come  if  you  had  been  travelling  out 
west  ? " 

"Oh,  Peter,"  cried  Dorothy,  below  her  breath,  "I'm  so 
glad  it's  come  at  last  I  " 

We  hope  our  readers  can  grasp  the  continuity  of  Doro- 
thy's mental  processes,  for  her  verbal  ones  were  rather 
inconsequent. 

"She's  lovely,"  continued  the  verbal  process.  "And 
I'm  sure  I  can  help  you." 

"  I  need  it,"  groaned  Peter.  "  She  doesn't  care  in  the 
least  for  me,  and  I  can't  get  her  to.  And  she  says  she 
isn't  going  to  marry  for " 

"Nonsense!"  interrupted  Dorothy,  contemptuously, 
and  sailed  into  the  ladies'  dressing-room. 

Peter  gazed  after  her.  "  I  wonder  what's  nonsense?" 
he  thought. 

Dorothy  set  about  her  self-imposed  task  with  all  the 
ardor  for  matchmaking,  possessed  by  a  perfectly  happy 


326  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

married  woman.  But  Dorothy  evidently  intended  that 
Leonore  should  not  marry  Peter,  if  one  can  judge  from 
the  tenor  of  her  remarks  to  Leonore  in  the  dressing-room. 
Peter  liked  Dorothy,  and  would  probably  not  have  be- 
lieved her  capable  of  treachery,  but  it  is  left  to  mascu- 
line mind  to  draw  any  other  inference  from  the  dialogue 
which  took  place  between  the  two,  as  they  prinked  be- 
fore a  cheval  glass. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  have  Peter  here  for  this  particular  even- 
ing," said  Dorothy. 

"Why?"  asked  Leonore,  calmly,  in  the  most  uninter- 
ested of  tones. 

"Because  Miss  Biddle  is  to  be  here.  For  two  years 
I've  been  trying  to  bring  those  two  together,  so  that  they 
might  make  a  match  of  it.  They  are  made  for  each 
other." 

Leonore  tucked  a  rebellious  curl  in  behind  the  drawn- 
back  lock.  Then  she  said,  "What  a  pretty  pin  you  have." 

"Isn't  it?  Ray  gave  it  to  me,"  said  Dorothy,  giving 
Leonore  all  the  line  she  wanted. 

"  I've  never  met  Miss  Biddle,"  said  Leonore. 

"She's  a  great  beauty,  and  rich.  And  then  she  has  that 
nice  Philadelphia  manner.  Peter  can't  abide  the  young- 
girl  manner.  He  hates  giggling  and  talking  girls.  It's 
funny  too,  because,  though  he  doesn't  dance  or  talk,  they 
like  him.  But  Miss  Biddle  is  an  older  girl,  and  can  talk 
on  subjects  which  please  him.  She  is  very  much  inter- 
ested in  politics  and  philanthropy. " 

"  I  thought,"  said  Leonore,  fluffing  the  lace  on  her  gown, 
"that  Peter  never  talked  politics." 

"He  doesn't,"  said  Dorothy.  "But  she  has  studied 
political  economy.  He's  willing  to  talk  abstract  subjects. 
She's  just  the  girl  for  a  statesman's  wife.  Beauty,  tact, 
very  clever,  and  yet  very  discreet.  I'm  doubly  glad  they'll 
meet  here,  for  she  has  given  up  dancing,  so  she  can 
entertain  Peter,  who  would  otherwise  have  a  dull  time 
of  it." 

"  If  she  wants  to,"  said  Leonore. 

"  Oh,"  said  Dorothy,  "I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  about  that. 
Peter's  the  kind  of  man  with  whom  every  woman's  ready 
to  fall  in  love.  Why,  my  dear,  he's  had  chance  after 
chance,  if  he  had  only  cared  to  try.  But,  of  course,  he 
doesn't  care  for  such  women  as  you  and  me,  who  can't 


A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL.  327 

enter  into  his  thoughts  or  sympathize  with  his  ambitions. 
To  him  we  are  nothing  but  dancing,  dressing,  prattling 
flutter-birds."  Then  Dorothy  put  her  head  on  one  side, 
and  seemed  far  more  interested  in  the  effect  of  her  own 
frock  than  in  Peter's  fate. 

"  He  talks  politics  to  me,"  Leonore  could  not  help  say- 
ing. Leonore  did  not  like  Dorothy's  last  speech. 

"  Oh,  Peter's  such  a  gentleman  that  he  always  talks 
seriously  even  to  us ;  but  it's  only  his  politeness.  I've 
seen  him  talk  to  girls  like  you,  and  he  is  delightfully  cour- 
teous, and  one  would  think  he  liked  it.  But,  from  little 
things  Ray  has  told  me,  I  know  he  looks  down  on  society 
girls." 

"  Are  you  ready,  Leonore?"  inquired  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

Leonore  was  very  ready.  Watts  and  Peter  were  ready 
also  ;  had  been  ready  during  the  whole  of  this  dialogue. 
Watts  was  cross  ;  Peter  wasn't.  Peter  would  will- 
ingly have  waited  an  hour  longer,  impatient  only  for 
the  moment  of  meeting,  not  to  get  downstairs.  That  is 
the  difference  between  a  husband  and  a  lover. 

"  Peter,"  said  Leonore,  the  moment  they  were  on  the 
stairs,  "  do  you  ever  tell  other  girls  political  secrets  ?  " 

Dorothy  was  coming  just  behind,  and  she  poked  Peter 
in  the  back  with  her  fan.  Then,  when  Peter  turned,  she 
said  with  her  lips  as  plainly  as  one  can  without  speaking  : 
"Say  yes." 

Peter  looked  surprised.  Then  he  turned  to  Leonore  and 
said,  "  No.  You  are  the  only  person,  man  or  woman, 
with  whom  I  like  to  talk  politics. " 

"  Oh  !  "  shrieked  Dorothy  to  herself.  "  You  great,  big, 
foolish  old  stupid !  Just  as  I  had  fixed  it  so  nicely  !  " 
What  Dorothy  meant  is  quite  inscrutable.  Peter  had  told 
the  truth. 

But,  after  the  greetings  were  over,  Dorothy  helped  Peter 
greatly.  She  said  to  him,  "Give  me  your  arm,  Peter. 
There  is  a  girl  here  whom  I  want  you  to  meet." 

"  Peter's  going  to  dance  this  valse  with  me,"  said  Leo- 
nore. And  Peter  had  two  minutes  of  bliss,  amateur  though 
he  was.  Then  Leonore  said  cruelly,  "That's  enough; 
you  do  it  very  badly  !  " 

When  Peter  had  seated  her  by  her  mother,  he  said : 
"  Excuse  me  for  a  moment.  I  want  to  speak  to  Dorothy. " 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  philandering  after  the  young 


328  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

married  women.  Men  of  your  age  always  do,"  said  Leo- 
nore,  with  an  absolutely  incomprehensible  cruelty. 

So  Peter  did  not  speak  to  Dorothy.  He  sat  down  by 
Leonore  and  talked,  till  a  scoundrelly,  wretched,  villain- 
ous, dastardly,  low-born,  but  very  good-looking  fellow  car- 
ried off  his  treasure.  Then  he  wended  his  way  to  Dorothy. 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  to  say  '  yes  '  ?  "  he  asked. 

Dorothy  sighed.  "I  thought  you  couldn't  have  under- 
stood me,"  she  said  ;  "but  you  are  even  worse  than  I  sup- 
posed. Never  mind,  it's  done  now,  Peter,  will  you  do 
me  a  great  favor  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to,"  said  Peter. 

"  Miss  Biddle,  of  Philadelphia,  is  here.  She  doesn't 
know  many  of  the  men,  and  she  doesn't  dance.  Now,  if 
I  introduce  you,  won't  you  try  to  make  her  have  a  good 
time  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Peter,  gloomily. 

"  And  don't  go  and  desert  her,  just  because  another  man 
comes  up.  It  makes  a  girl  think  you  are  in  a  hurry  to 
get  away,  and  Miss  Biddle  is  very  sensitive.  I  know  you 
don't  want  to  hurt  her  feelings. "  All  this  had  been  said 
as  they  crossed  the  room.  Then  :  "Miss  Biddle,  let  me 
introduce  Mr.  Stirling." 

Peter  sat  down  to  his  duty.  "I  mustn't  look  at  Leo- 
nore," he  thought,  "  or  I  shan't  be  attentive.  So  he  turned 
his  face  away  from  the  room  heroically.  As  for  Dorothy, 
she  walked  away  with  a  smile  of  contentment.  "  There, 
miss,"  she  remarked,  "we'll  see  if  you  can  trample  on 
dear  old  Peter  !  " 

"Who's  that  girl  to  whom  Mr.  Stirling  is  talking?  " 
asked  Leonore  of  her  partner. 

B"  Ah,  that's  the  rich  Miss  Biddle,  of  Philadelphia,"  re- 
plied the  scoundrel,  in  very  gentleman-like  accents  for  one 
of  his  class.  "  They  say  she's  never  been  able  to  find  a 
man  good  enough  for  her,  and  so  she's  keeping  herself  on 
ice  till  she  dies,  in  hopes  that  she'll  find  one  in  heaven. 
She's  a  great  catch." 

"  She's  decidedly  good-looking,"  said  Leonore. 

"  Think  so  ?  Some  people  do.  I  don't.  I  don't  like 
blondes." 

When  Leonore  had  progressed  as  far  as  her  fourth  part- 
ner, she  asked  :  "What  sort  of  a  girl  is  that  Miss  Biddle  ?  " 

"  She's  really  stunning,"  she  was  told.      "  Fellows  are 


A  GUARDIAN  ANGEL. 


329 


all  wild  about  her.  But  she  has  an  awfully  snubbing 
way." 

"  Is  she  clever?  " 

"Is  she?  That's  the  trouble.  She  won't  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  a  man  unless  he's  clever.  Look  at  her 
to-night !  She  got  her  big  fish  right  off,  and  sne's  driven 
away  every  man  who's  come  near  her  ever  since.  She's 
the  kind  'of  a  girl  that,  if  she  decides  on  anything,  she 
does  it." 

"  Who's  her  big  fish  ?  "  said  Leonore,  as  if  she  had  not 
noticed. 

"That big  fellow,  who  is  so  awfully  exclusive — Stirling. 
He  doesn't  think  any  people  good  enough  for  him  but  the 
Pells,  and  Miss  De  Voe,  and  the  Ogdens.  What  they  can 
see  in  him  I  can't  imagine.  I  sat  opposite  him  once  at 
dinner,  this  spring,  at  the  William  Pells,  and  he  only  said 
three  things  in  the  whole  meal.  And  he  was  sitting  next 
that  clever  Miss  Winthrop." 

After  the  fifth  dance,  Dorothy  came  up  to  Leonore. 
"It's  going  beautifully,"  she  said;  "do  you  see  how 
Peter  has  turned  his  back  to  the  room  ?  And  I  heard  a 
man  say  that  Miss  Biddle  was  freezing  to  every  man  who 
tried  to  interrupt  them.  I  must  arrange  some  affairs  this 
week  so  that  they  shall  have  chances  to  see  each  other. 
You  will  help  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  much  engaged  for  this  week,"  said  Leonore. 

"  What  a  pity  !  Never  mind  ;  I'll  get  Peter.  Let  me 
see.  She  rides  beautifully.  Did  Peter  bring  his  horses?" 

"  One,"  said  Leonore,  with  a  suggestion  of  reluctance 
in  stating  the  fact. 

"  I'll  go  and  arrange  it  at  once,"  said  Dorothy,  thinking 
that  Peter  might  be  getting  desperate. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Leonore,  "  how  old  Mrs.  Rivington 
has  grown  !  " 

"  I  haven't  noticed  it,  dear,"  said  her  mother. 

Dorothy  went  up  to  the  pair  and  said  :  "Peter,  won't 
you  show  Miss  Biddle  the  conservatories  !  You  know," 
she  explained,  "they  are  very  beautiful." 

Peter  rose  dutifully,  but  with  a  very  passive  look  on  his 
face. 

"And,  Peter,"  said  Dorothy,  dolefully,  "  will  you  take 
me  in  to  supper?  I  haven't  found  a  man  who's  had  the 
grace  to  ask  me." 


33<> 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


"Yes." 

"We'll  sit  at  the  same  table,"  said  Dorothy  to  Miss 
Biddle. 

When  Peter  got  into  the  carriage  that  evening  he  was 
very  blue.  "I  had  only  one  waltz/7  he  told  himself, 
"and  did  not  really  see  anything  else  of  her  the  whole 
evening. " 

"  Is  that  Miss  Biddle  as  clever  as  people  say  she  is?  " 
asked  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"  She  is  a  very  unusual  woman,"  said  Peter.  "  I  rarely 
have  known  a  better  informed  one."  Peter's  tone  of 
voice  carried  the  inference  that  he  hated  unusual  and  in- 
formed women,  and  as  this  is  the  case  with  most  men, 
his  voice  presumably  reflected  his  true  thoughts. 

"I  should  say  so,"  said  Watts.  "At  our  little  table 
she  said  the  brightest  things,  and  told  the  best  stories. 
That's  a  girl  as  is  a  girl.  I  tried  to  see  her  afterwards, 
but  found  that  Peter  was  taking  an  Italian  lesson  of  her." 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"I  have  a  chap  who  breakfasts  with  me  three  times  a 
week,  to  talk  Italian,  which  I  am  trying  to  learn,"  said 
Peter,  "and  Dorothy  told  Miss  Biddle,  so  she  offered  to 
talk  in  it.  She  has  a  beautiful  accent,  and  it  was  very 
good  of  her  to  offer,  for  I  know  very  little  as  yet,  and 
don't  think  she  could  have  enjoyed  it." 

"What  do  you  want  with  Italian  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"  To  catch  the  Italian  vote,"  said  Peter. 

"Oh,  you  sly-boots,"  said  Watts.  Then  he  turned. 
"What  makes  my  Dot  so  silent  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,"  said  Leonore  in  weary  tones,  "  I've  danced  too 
much  and  I'm  very,  very  tired. " 

"Well," said  Watts,  "see  that  you  sleep  late." 

"  I  shall  be  all  right  to-morrow,"  said  Leonore,  "and  I'm 
going  to  have  an  early  horseback  ride. " 

"Peter  and  I  will  go  too,"  said  Watts. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Peter.  "I'm  to  ride  with  Dorothy 
and  Miss  Biddle." 

"  Ha,  ha,"  said  Watts.      "  More  Italian  lessons,  eh  ?  " 

Two  people  looked  very  cross  that  evening  when  they 
got  to  their  rooms. 

Leonore  sighed  to  her  maid  :  "Oh,  Marie,  I  am  so  tired  I 
Don't  let  me  be  disturbed  till  it's  nearly  lunch." 

And  Peter  groaned  to  nobody  in  particular,  "  An  evening 


INTERFERENCE.  331 

and  a  ride  gone  !     I  tried  to  make  Dorothy  understand. 
It's  too  bad  of  her  to  be  so  dense." 

So  clearly  Dorothy  was  to  blame.  Yet  the  cause  of  all 
this  trouble  fell  asleep  peacefully,  remarking  to  herself, 
just  before  she  drifted  into  dreamland,  "Every  man  in 
love  ought  to  have  a  guardian,  and  I'll  be  Peter's." 


CHAPTER  LIII. 
INTERFERENCE. 

WHEN  Peter  returned  from  his  ride  the  next  day,  he 
found  Leonore  reading  the  papers  in  the  big  hall.  She 
gave  him  a  very  frigid  "good-morning,"  yet  instantly 
relaxed  a  little  in  telling  him  there  was  another  long 
telegram  for  him  on  the  mantel.  She  said  nothing  of  his 
reading  the  despatch  to  her,  but  opened  a  new  sheet  of 
paper,  and  began  to  read  its  columns  with  much  apparent 
interest.  That  particular  page  was  devoted  to  the  current 
prices  of  "  Cotton  ; ;;  "  Coffee  ;  "  "  Flour  ;  "  "Molasses  ;  " 
"Beans;"  "Butter;"  "Hogs;"  "  Naval  Stores ;"  "Ocean 
Freights,"  and  a  large  number  of  equally  kindred  and 
interesting  subjects. 

Peter  took  the  telegram,  but  did  not  read  it.  Instead 
he  looked  down  at  all  of  his  pretty  "friend"  not  sedu- 
lously hidden  by  the  paper.  He  recognized  that  his 
friend  had  a  distinctly  "not-at-home  "  look,  but  after  a 
moment's  hesitation  he  remarked,  "You  don't  expect  me 
to  read  this  alone  ?  " 

Silence. 

"Because,"  continued  Peter,  "it's  an  answer  to  those 
we  wrote  and  sent  yesterday,  and  I  shan't  dare  reply  it 
without  your  advice." 

Silence. 

Peter  coolly  put  his  hand  on  the  paper  and  pushed  it 
down  till  he  could  see  Leonore's  face.  When  he  had 
done  that  he  found  her  fairly  beaming.  She  tried  to  put 
on  a  serious  look  quickly,  and  looked  up  at  him  with 
it  on. 

But  Peter  said,  "I  caught  you,"  and  laughed.     Then 


332  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Leonore  laughed.     Then  they  filled  in  the  space  before 
lunch  by  translating  and  answering  the  telegram. 

As  soon  as  that  meal  was  over,  Peter  said,  "  Now  will 
you  teach  me  waltzing  again  ? " 
'No." 

' Why  not?" 

'  I'm  not  going  to  spend  time  teaching  a  man  to  dance, 
who  doesn't  dance." 

'  I  was  nearly  wild  to  dance  last  night, "  said  Peter. 
'Then  why  didn't  you  ?  " 
'  Dorothy  asked  me  to  do  something. " 
'  I  don't  think  much  of  men  who  let  women  control 
them." 

"I  wanted  to  please  Dorothy,"  said  Peter.  "I  was  as 
well  off  talking  to  one  girl  as  to  another.  Since  you  don't 
like  my  dancing,  I  supposed  you  would  hardly  choose  to 
dance  again  with  me,  or  ropes  wouldn't  have  held  me." 

"I  can  talk  Italian  too,"  said  Leonore,  with  no  appa- 
rent connection. 

"  Will  you  talk  it  with  me  ?  "  said  Peter  eagerly.  "  You 
see,  there  are  a  good  many  Italians  in  the  district  now, 
who,  by  their  ignorance  and  their  not  speaking  English, 
are  getting  into  trouble  all  the  time.  I  want  to  learn, 
so  as  to  help  them,  without  calling  in  an  interpreter." 
Peter  was  learning  to  put  his  requests  on  grounds  other 
than  his  own  wishes. 

"Yes,"  said  Leonore,  very  sweetly,  "and  I'll  give  you 
another  lesson  in  dancing.  How  did  you  enjoy  your  ride  ?  " 

"I  like  Dorothy,"  said  Peter,  "and  I  like  Miss  Biddle. 
But  I  didn't  get  the  ride  I  wanted. " 

He  got  a  very  nice  look  from  those  slate-colored  eyes. 

They  set  a  music-box  going,  and  Peter's  instruction 
began.  When  it  was  over,  Leonore  said  : 

"  You've  improved  wonderfully." 

"  Well  enough  to  dance  with  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  "said  Leonore.  "  I'll  take  pity  on  you  unless 
you'd  rather  talk  to  some  other  girl. " 

Peter  only  smiled  quietly. 

"Peter,"  said  Leonore,  later,  as  he  was  sipping  his  tea, 
"do  you  think  I'm  nothing  but  a  foolish  society  flutter- 
bird  ?  " 

"Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  you  ?  "  asked 
Peter,  eagerly. 


INTERFERENCE.  333 

"  No,"  said  Leonore  hastily.  "  But  do  you  think  of  me 
as  nothing  but  a  society  girl  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Peter,  truth  speaking  in  voice  and  face. 

The  corners  of  Leonore's  mouth  descended  to  a  woeful 
degree. 

"  1  think  you  are  a  society  girl,"  continued  Peter,  "  be- 
cause you  are  the  nicest  kind  of  society." 

Leonore  fairly  filled  the  room  with  her  smile.  Then 
she  said,  "  Peter,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?  " 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  tell  Dorothy  that  I  have  helped  you  translate 
cipher  telegrams  and  write  the  replies  ?  " 

Peter  was  rather  astonished,  but  said,  "  Yes." 

But  he  did  it  very  badly,  Leonore  thought,  for  meeting1 
Dorothy  the  next  day  at  a  lawn  party,  after  the  mere 
greetings,  he  said : 

"Dorothy,  Miss  D'Alloi  has  been  helping  me  translate 
and  write  cipher  telegrams." 

Dorothy  looked  startled  at  the  announcement  for  a 
moment.  Then  she  gave  a  glance  at  Leonore,  who  was 
standing-  by  Peter,  visibly  holding  herself  in  a  very  trium- 
phant attitude.  Then  she  burst  out  into  the  merriest  of 
laughs,  and  kept  laughing. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Peter. 

"  Such  a  joke,"  gasped  Dorothy,  "but  I  can't  tell  you." 

As  for  Leonore,  her  triumphant  manner  had  fled,  and 
her  cheeks  were  very  red.  And  when  some  one  spoke  to 
Dorothy,  and  took  her  attention,  Leonore  said  to  Peter 
very  crossly  : 

"You  are  so  clumsy!  Of  course  I  didn't  mean  that 
way." 

Peter  sighed  internally.  "I  am  stupid,  I  suppose,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  I  tried  to  do  just  what  she  asked,  but 
she's  displeased,  and  I  suppose  she  won't  be  nice  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  If  it  was  only  law  or  politics  !  But 
women  1  " 

But  Leonore  didn't  abuse  him.  She  was  very  kind  to 
him,  despite  her  displeasure.  "  If  Dorothy  would  only 
let  me  alone,"  thought  Peter,  "I  should  have  a  glorious 
time.  Why  can't  she  let  me  stay  with  her  when  she's  in 
such  a  nice  mood.  And  why  does  she  insist  on  my  being 
attentive  to  her.  I  don't  care  for  her.  It  seems  as  if  she 
was  determined  to  break  up  my  enjoyment,  just  as  I  get 


334 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


her  to  myself. "  Peter  mixed  his  "hers  "  and  "  shes  "  too 
thoroughly  in  this  sentence  to  make  its  import  clear. 
His  thoughts  are  merely  reported  verbatim,  as  the  easiest 
way.  It  certainly  indicates  that,  as  with  most  troubles, 
there  was  a  woman  in  it. 

Peter  said  much  this  same  thing  to  himself  quite  often 
during  the  following  week,  and  always  with  a  groan, 
Dorothy  was  continually  putting  her  finger  in.  Yet  it 
was  in  the  main  a  happy  time  to  Peter.  His  friend  treated 
him  very  nicely  for  the  most  part,  if  very  variably.  Peter 
never  knew  in  what  mood  he  should  find  her.  Sometimes 
he  felt  that  Leonore  considered  him  as  the  dirt  under  her 
little  feet  Then  again,  she  could  not  be  too  sweet  to 
him.  There  was  an  evening — a  dinner — at  which  he  sat 
between  Miss  Biddle  and  Leonore,  when,  it  seemed  to 
Peter,  Leonore  said  and  looked  such  nice  things,  that  the 
millennium  had  come.  Yet  the  next  morning,  she  told 
him  that :  "It  was  a  very  dull  dinner.  I  talked  to  no- 
body but  you. " 

Fortunately  for  Peter,  the  D'Allois  were  almost  as  new 
an  advent  in  Newport,  so  Leonore  was  not  yet  in  the 
running.  But  by  the  time  Peter's  first  week  had  sped,  he 
found  that  men  were  putting  their  fingers  in,  as  well  as 
Dorothy.  Morning,  noon,  and  night  they  gathered. 
Then  lunches,  teas,  drives,  yachts,  and  innumerable  other 
affairs  also  plunged  their  fingers  in.  Peter  did  not  yield 
to  the  superior  numbers.  He  went  wherever  Leonore 
went.  But  the  other  men  went  also,  and  understood  the 
ropes  far  better.  He  fought  on,  but  a  sickening  feeling 
began  to  creep  over  him  of  impending  failure.  It  was 
soon  not  merely  how  Leonore  treated  him ;  it  was  the 
impossibility  of  getting  her  to  treat  him  at  all.  Even 
though  he  was  in  the  same  house,  it  seemed  as  if  there 
was  always  some  one  else  calling,  or  mealing,  or  taking 
tea,  or  playing  tennis,  or  playing  billiards,  or  merely  drop- 
ping in.  And  then  Leonore  took  fewer  and  fewer  meals  at 
home,  and  spent  fewer  and  fewer  hours  there.  One  day 
Peter  had  to  translate  those  despatches  all  by  himself ! 
When  he  had  a  cup  of  tea  now,  even  with  three  or  four 
men  about,  he  considered  himself  lucky.  He  understood 
at  last  what  Miss  De  Voe  had  meant  when  she  had  spoken 
of  the  difficulty  of  seeing  enough  of  a  popular  girl  either  to 
love  her  or  to  tell  her  of  it.  They  prayed  for  rain  in  church 


INTERFERENCE. 

on  Sunday,  on  account  of  the  drought,  and  Peter  said 
''Amen  "  with  fervor.  Anything-  to  end  such  fluttering. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks,  Peter  said  sadly  that  he  must 
be  going. 

'  '  Rubbish,"  said  Watts.    ' '  You  are  to  stay  for  a  month. " 

"I  hope  you'll  stay,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

Peter  waited  a  moment  for  some  one  else  to  speak. 
Some  one  else  didn't. 

"I  think  I  must,"  he  said.  "It  isn't  a  matter  of  my 
own  wishes,  but  I'm  needed  in  Syracuse. "  Peter  spoke 
as  if  Syracuse  was  the  ultimate  of  human  misery. 

"Is  it  necessary  for  you  to  be  there? "  asked  Leonore. 

"Not  absolutely,  but  I  had  better  go." 

Later  in  the  day  Leonore  said,  "I've  decided  you  are 
not  to  go  to  Syracuse.  I  shall  want  you  here  to  explain 
what  they  do  to  me. " 

And  that  cool,  insulting  speech  filled  Peter  with  hap- 
piness. 

"I've  decided  to  stay  another  week,"  he  told  Mrs. 
D'Alloi. 

Nor  could  all  the  appeals  over  the  telegraph  move  him, 
though  that  day  and  the  next  the  wires  to  Newport  from 
New  York  and  Syracuse  were  kept  hot,  the  despatches 
came  so  continuously. 

Two  days  after  this  decision,  Peter  and  Leonore  went 
to  a  cotillion.  Leonore  informed  him  that:  "Mamma 
makes  me  leave  after  supper,  because  she  doesn't  like  me 
to  stay  late,  so  I  miss  the  nice  part." 

"  How  many  waltzes  are  you  going  to  give  me  ?  "  asked 
Peter,  with  an  eye  to  his  one  ball-room  accomplishment. 

"I'll  give  you  the  first,"  said  Leonore,  "and  then  if 
you'll  sit  near  me,  I'll  give  you  a  look  every  time  I  see  a 
man  coming  whom  I  don't  like,  and  if  you  are  quick  and 
ask  me  first,  I'll  give  it  to  you." 

Peter  became  absolutely  happy.  "  How  glad  I  am," 
he  thought,  "that  I  didn't  go  to  Syracuse  1  What  a  shame 
it  is  there  are  other  dances  than  waltzes." 

But  after  Peter  had  had  two  waltzes,  he  overheard  his 
aged  friend  of  fifteen  years  say  something  to  a  girl  that 
raised  him  many  degrees  in  his  mind.  "That's  a  very 
brainy  fellow,"  said  Peter  admiringly.  "  That  never  oc- 
curred to  me  !  " 

So  he   waited  till   he   saw  Leonore  seated,  and  then 


336  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

joined  her.  "Won't  you  sit  out  this  dance  with  me?" 
he  asked. 

Leonore  looked  surprised.  "  He's  getting  very  clever/' 
she  thought,  never  dreaming  that  Peter's  cleverness,  like 
so  many  other  people's  nowadays,  consisted  in  a  per- 
tinent use  of  quotations.  Parrot  cleverness,  we  might 
term  it.  Leonore  listened  to  the  air  which  the  musicians 
were  beginning,  and  finding  it  the  Lancers,  or  dreariest  of 
dances,  she  made  Peter  happy  by  assenting. 

"Suppose  we  go  out  on  the  veranda,"  said  Peter,  still 
quoting. 

"Now  of  what  are  you  going  to  talk?"  said  Leonore, 
when  they  were  ensconced  on  a  big  wicker  divan,  in  the 
soft  half  light  of  the  Chinese  lanterns. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  of  something  that  seems  to  me 
about  a  hundred  years  ago,"  said  Peter.  "But  it  concerns 
myself,  and  I  don't  want  to  bore  you." 

"  Try,  and  if  I  don't  like  it  I'll  stop  you,"  said  Leonore, 
opening  up  a  line  of  retreat  worthy  of  a  German  army. 

"I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  about  it,"  said  Peter, 
faltering  a  little.  "I  suppose  I  can  hardly  make  you 
understand  it,  as  it  is  to  me.  But  I  want  you  to  know, 
because — well — it's  only  fair. " 

Leonore  looked  at  Peter  with  a  very  tender  look  in  her 
eyes.  He  could  not  see  it,  because  Leonore  sat  so  that 
her  face  was  in  shadow.  But  she  could  see  his  expres- 
sion, and  when  he  hesitated,  with  that  drawn  look  on  his 
face,  Leonore  said  softly  : 

"  You  mean — about — mamma  ?  " 

Peter  started.      ' '  Yes  !     You  know  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Leonore  gently.  "And  that  was  why  I 
trusted  you,  without  ever  having  met  you,  and  why  I 
wanted  to  be  friends. " 

Peter  sighed  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  I've  been  so  afraid  of  it," 
he  said.  ' '  She  told  you  ?  " 

"Yes.  That  is,  Miss  De  Voe  told  me  first  of  your 
having  been  disappointed,  so  I  asked  mamma  if  she  knew 
the  girl,  and  then  mamma  told  me.  I'm  glad  you  spoke 
of  it,  for  I've  wanted  to  ask  you  something." 

"What?" 

"If  that  was  why  you  wouldn't  call  at  first  on  us ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  why  did  mamma  say  you  wouldn't  call  ?  "   When 


INTERFERENCE.  337 

Peter  made  no  reply,  Leonore  continued,  "  I  knew — that  is 
I  felt,  there  was  something  wrong.  What  was  it  ?  " 

"I  can't  tell  you." 

"  Yes/'  said  Leonore,  very  positively. 

Peter  hesitated.  "  She  thought  badly  of  me  about  some- 
thing, till  I  apologized  to  her. "  » 

"And  now?  M 

"Now  she  invites  me  to  Grey-Court." 

"Then  it  wasn't  anything?  " 

"She  had  misjudged  me." 

"  Now,  tell  me  what  it  was." 

"Miss  D'Alloi,  I  know  you  do  not  mean  it,"  said  Peter, 
"but  you  are  paining  me  greatly.  There  is  nothing  in 
my  whole  life  so  bitter  to  me  as  what  you  ask  me  to 
tell." 

"Oh,  Peter,"  said  Leonore,  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  was 
very  thoughtless  !  " 

"And  you  don't  think  the  worse  of  me,  because  I  loved 
your  mother,  and  because  I  can't  tell  you?  "  said  Peter,  in 
a  dangerous  tone. 

"  No,"  said  Leonore,  but  she  rose.  "Now  we'll  go  back 
to  the  dancing." 

"  One  moment,"  begged  Peter. 

But  Leonore  was  already  in  the  full  light  blazing  from 
the  room.  "  Are  you  coming  ?  "  she  said. 

"  May  I  hare  this  waltz  ?  "  said  Peter,  trying  to  get  half 
a  loaf. 

"No,"  said  Leonore,  "  it's  promised  to  Mr.  Rutgers." 

Just  then  mine  host  came  up  and  said.  "  I  congratulate 
you,  Mr.  Stirling." 

Peter  wanted  to  kick  him,  but  he  didn't 

"I  congratulate  you,"  said  another  man. 

"On  what?"  Peter  saw  no  cause  for  congratulation, 
only  for  sorrow. 

"Oh,  Peter,"  said  Dorothy,  sailing  up  at  this  junction, 
"  how  nice  !  And  such  a  surprise  !  " 

"  Why,  haven't  you  heard?  "  said  mine  host. 

" Oh,"  cried  Leonore,  "is  it  about  the  Convention  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  a  man.  "  Manners  is  in  from  the  club  and 
tells  us  that  a  despatch  says  your  name  was  sprung  on 
the  Convention  at  nine,  and  that  you  were  chosen  by 
acclamation  without  a  single  ballot  being  taken.  Every 
one's  thunderstruck." 

22 


338  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  a  small  voice,  fairly  bristling  with  im- 
portance, "I  knew  all  about  it." 

Every  one  laughed  at  this,  except  Dorothy.  Dorothy 
had  a  suspicion  that  it  was  true.  But  she  didn't  say  so. 
She  sniffed  visibly,  and  said,  "Nonsense.  As  if  Peter 
would  tell  you  secrets.  Come,  Peter,  I  want  to  take  you 
over  and  let  Miss  Biddle  congratulate  you. " 

"Peter  has  just  asked  me  for  this  waltz,"  said  Leonore. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Rutgers,  I'm  so  sorry.  I'm  going  to  dance  this 
with  Mr.  Stirling." 

And  then  Peter  felt  he  was  to  be  congratulated. 

"  I  shan't  marry  him  myself,"  thought  Leonore,  "  but  I 
won't  have  my  friends  married  off  right  under  my  nose, 
and  you  can  try  all  you  want,  Mrs.  Rivington." 

So  Peter's  guardianship  was  apparently  bearing  fruit. 
Yet  man  to  this  day  holds  woman  to  be  the  weaker 
vessel  1 


CHAPTER  LIV. 
OBSTINACY. 

THE  next  morning  Peter  found  that  his  prayer  for  a 
rainy  day  had  been  answered,  and  came  down  to  break- 
fast in  the  pleasantest  of  humors. 

"See  how  joyful  his  future  Excellency  looks  already," 
said  Watts,  promptly  recalling  Peter  to  the  serious  part  of 
life.  And  fortunately  too,  for  from  that  moment,  the  time 
which  he  had  hoped  to  have  alone  (if  two  ever  can  be 
alone),  began  to  be  pilfered  from  him.  Hardly  were  they 
seated  at  breakfast  when  Pell  dropped  in  to  congratulate 
him,  and  from  that  moment,  despite  the  rain,  every  friend 
in  Newport  seemed  to  feel  it  a  bounden  duty  to  do  the 
same,  and  to  stay  the  longer  because  of  the  rain.  Peter 
wished  he  had  set  the  time  for  the  Convention  two  days 
earlier  or  two  days  later. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  ask  any  of  these  people  to  luncheon," 
Peter  said  in  an  aside  to  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"Why?"  he  was  asked. 

Peter  looked  puzzled,  and  finally  said  weakly,  "  I — I 
have  a  good  deal  to  do." 

And  then  as  proper  punishment  for  his  misdemeanor, 


OBSTINACY.  339 

the  footman  announced  Dorothy  and  Miss  Biddle,  Ray  and 
Ogden.  Dorothy  sailed  into  the  room  with  the  announce- 
ment : 

"  We've  all  come  to  luncheon  if  we  are  asked." 

"Oh,  Peter,"  said  Ray,  when  they  were  seated  at  the 
table.  "  Have  you  seen  this  morning's  '  Voice  of  Labor  ? ' 
No  ?  Good  gracious,  they've  raked  up  that  old  verse  in 
Watts's  class-song  and  print  it  as  proof  that  you  were  a 
drunkard  in  your  college  days.  Here  it  is.  Set  to  music 
and  headed  '  Saloon  Pete.'  " 

"  Look  here,  Ray,  we  must  write  to  the  'Voice  '  and  tell 
them  the  truth,"  said  Watts. 

"  Never  write  to  the  paper  that  tells  the  lie,"  said  Peter, 
laughing.  "  Always  write  to  the  one  that  doesn't.  Then 
it  will  go  for  the  other  paper.  But  I  wouldn't  take  the 
trouble  in  this  case.  The  opposition  would  merely  say 
that :  'Of  course  Mr.  Stirling's  intimate  friends  are  bound 
to  give  such  a  construction  to  the  song,  and  the  attempt 
does  them  credit. ' " 

"But  why  don't  you  deny  it,  Peter?"  asked  Leonora 
anxiously.  "  It's  awful  to  think  of  people  saying  you  are 
a  drunkard  !  " 

"  If  I  denied  the  untruths  told  of  me  I  should  have  my 
hands  full.  Nobody  believes  such  things,  except  the  peo- 
ple who  are  ready  to  believe  them.  They  wouldn't  be- 
lieve otherwise,  no  matter  what  I  said.  If  you  think  a 
man  is  a  scoundrel,  you  are  not  going  to  believe  his 
word." 

"But,  Peter,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  "you  ought  to  deny 
them  for  the  future.  After  you  and  your  friends  are  dead, 
people  will  go  back  to  the  newspapers,  and  see  what  they 
said  about  you,  and  then  will  misjudge  you." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that.  I  shall  hardly  be  of  enough 
account  to  figure  in  history,  or  if  I  become  so,  such  at- 
tacks will  not  hurt  me.  Why,  Washington  was  charged 
by  the  papers  of  his  day,  with  being  a  murderer,  a  traitor, 
and  a  tyrant.  And  Lincoln  was  vilified  to  an  extent 
which  seems  impossible  now.  The  greater  the  man,  the 
greater  the  abuse. " 

"Why  do  the  papers  call  you  'Pete  '?"  asked  Leonore, 
anxiously.  "I  rather  like  Peter,  but  Pete  is  dreadful  1  " 

"To  prove  that  I  am  unfit  to  be  governor." 

"  Are  you  serious  ?  "  asked  Miss  Biddle. 


340  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Yes.  From  their  point  of  view,  the  dropping  of  the 
'r*  ought  to  convince  voters  that  I  am  nothing  but  a 
tough  and  heeler." 

"But  it  won't !  "  declared  Leonore,  speaking  from  vast 
experience. 

"I  don't  think  it  will.  Though  if  they  keep  at  it,  and 
really  convince  the  voters  who  can  be  convinced  by  such 
arguments,  that  I  am  what  they  call  me,  they'll  elect 
me." 

"How?"  asked  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

"Because  intelligent  people  are  not  led  astray  but 
outraged  by  such  arguments,  and  ignorant  people,  who 
can  be  made  to  believe  all  that  is  said  of  me,  by  such 
means,  will  think  I  am  just  the  man  for  whom  they  want 
to  vote." 

"  How  is  it  possible  that  the  papers  can  treat  you  so?  " 
said  Watts.  "The  editors  know  you?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  have  met  nearly  every  man  connected 
with  the  New  York  press." 

"They  must  know  better?  " 

"Yes.  But  lor  partisan  purposes  they  must  say  what 
they  do." 

"Then  they  are  deliberately  lying  to  deceive  the  peo- 
ple ?  "  asked  Miss  Biddle. 

"It's  rather  a  puzzling  matter  in  ethics,"  said  Peter. 
"I  don't  think  that  the  newspaper  fraternity  have  any 
lower  standard  of  morals,  than  men  in  other  professions. 
In  the  main  they  stand  for  everything  that  is  admirable, 
so  long  as  it's  non-partisan,  and  some  of  the  men  who  to- 
day are  now  writing  me  down,  have  aided  me  in  the  past 
more  than  I  can  say,  and  are  at  this  moment  my  personal 
friends." 

"How  dishonest!" 

"I  cannot  quite  call  it  that.  When  the  greatest  and 
most  honorable  statesmen  of  Europe  and  America  will  lie 
and  cheat  each  other  to  their  utmost  extent,  under  cover 
of  the  term  '  diplomacy/  and  get  rewarded  and  praised  by 
their  respective  countries  for  their  knavery,  provided  it  is 
successful,  I  think  '  dishonest '  is  a  strong  word  fora  merely 
partisan  press.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  partisan  press  would 
end  to-morrow,  but  for  the  narrowness  and  meanness  of 
readers. " 

"  Which  they  cause,"  said  Ogden. 


OBSTINACY.  341 

"Just  as  much,"  said  Peter,  "as  the  saloon  makes  a 
drunkard,  food  causes  hunger,  and  books  make  readers." 

"  But,  at  least,  you  must  acknowledge  they've  got  you, 
when  they  say  you  are  the  saloon-keepers'  friend,"  laughed 
Watts. 

"  Yes.     I  am  that — but  only  for  votes,  you  understand. " 

"Mr.  Stirling,  why  do  you  like  saloons?"  asked  Miss 
Biddle. 

"  I  don't  like  saloons.  My  wish  is  to  see  the  day  come, 
when  such  a  gross  form  of  physical  enjoyment  as  tippling 
shall  cease  entirely.  But  till  that  day  comes,  till  hu- 
manity has  taught  itself  and  raised  itself,  I  want  to  see  fair 
play." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"The  rich  man  can  lay  in  a  stock  of  wine,  or  go  to  a 
hotel  or  club,  and  get  what  he  wants  at  any  time  and  all 
times.  It  is  not  fair,  because  a  man's  pockets  are  filled 
with  nickels  instead  of  eagles,  that  he  shall  not  have  the 
same  right.  For  that  reason,  I  have  always  spoken  for  the 
saloon,  and  even  for  Sunday  openings.  You  know  what 
I  think  myself  of  that  day.  You  know  what  I  think  of 
wine.  But  if  I  claim  the  right  to  spend  Sunday  in  my 
way  and  not  to  drink,  I  must  concede  an  equal  right  to 
others  to  do  as  they  please.  If  a  man  wants  to  drink  at 
any  time,  what  right  have  I  to  say  he  shall  not  ?" 

"But  the  poor  man  goes  and  makes  a  beast  of  himself," 
said  Watts. 

"There  is  as  much  champagne  drunkenness  as  whisky 
drunkenness,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  drinkers  of 
each.  But  a  man  who  drinks  champagne,  is  sent  home  in 
a  cab,  and  is  put  to  bed,  while  the  man  who  can't  afford 
that  kind  of  drink,  and  is  made  mad  by  poisoned  and 
doctored  whisky,  doctored  and  poisoned  because  of  our 
heavy  tax  on  it,  must  take  his  chance  of  arrest.  That  is 
the  shameful  thing  about  all  our  so-called  temperance 
legislation.  It's  based  on  an  unfair  interference  with 
personal  liberty,  and  always  discriminates  in  favor  of  the 
man  with  money.  If  the  rich  man  has  his  club,  let  the 
poor  man  have  his  saloon." 

"  How  much  better,  though,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  "  to  stop 
the  sale  of  wine  everywhere." 

"  That  is  neither  possible  nor  right.  You  can't  strength- 
en humanity  by  tying  its  hands.  It  must  be  left  free  to 


342 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING, 


become  strong.  I  have  thought  much  about  the  problem, 
and  I  see  only  one  fair  and  practical  means  of  bettering 
our  present  condition.  But  boss  as  the  papers  say  I  am, 
I  am  not  strong  enough  to  force  it. " 

"  What  is  that,  Peter?  "  asked  Dorothy. 

"  So  long  as  a  man  drinks  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  inter- 
fere with  another  person's  liberty  we  have  no  right  to  check 
him.  But  the  moment  he  does,  the  public  has  a  right  to 
protect  itself  and  his  family,  by  restraining  him,  as  it  does 
thieves,  or  murderers,  or  wife-beaters.  My  idea  is,  that  a 
license,  something  perhaps  like  our  dog-license,  shall  be 
given  to  every  one  who  applies  for  it.  That  before  a  man 
can  have  a  drink,  this  license  must  be  shown.  Then  if  a 
man  is  before  the  police  court  a  second  time,  for  drunken- 
ness, or  if  his  family  petition  for  it,  his  license  shall  be 
cancelled,  and  a  heavy  fine  incurred  by  any  one  who  giv^s 
or  sells  that  man  a  drink  thereafter. " 

"Oh,"  laughed  Watts,  "you  are  heavenly!  Just  im- 
agine a  host  saying  to  his  dinner-party,  '  Friends,  before 
this  wine  is  passed,  will  you  please  show  me  your  drink 
licenses. ' " 

" You  may  laugh,  Watts,"  said  Peter,  "but  such  are- 
quest  would  have  saved  many  a  young  fellow  from  ruin, 
and  society  from  an  occasional  terrible  occurrence  which 
even  my  little  social  experience  has  shown  me.  And  it 
would  soon  be  so  much  a  matter  of  course,  that  it  would 
be  no  more  than  showing  your  ticket,  to  prove  yourself 
entitled  to  a  ride.  It  solves  the  problem  of  drunken- 
ness. And  that  is  all  we  can  hope  to  do,  till  humanity 

is "    Then  Peter,  who  had  been  looking  at  Leonore, 

smiled. 

"  Is  what  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"  The  rest  is  in  cipher,"  said  Peter,  but  if  he  had  finished 
his  sentence,  it  would  have  been,  "  half  as  perfect  as  you 
are." 

After  this  last  relay  of  callers  had  departed,  it  began  to 
pour  so  nobly  that  Peter  became  hopeful  once  more.  He 
wandered  about,  making  a  room-to-room  canvass,  in 
search  of  happiness,  and  to  his  surprise  saw  happiness  de- 
scending the  broad  stair  incased  in  an  English  shooting- 
cap,  and  a  mackintosh. 

"  You  are  not  going  out  in  such  weather  ?  "  demanded 
Peter. 


OBSTINACY.  343 

"  Yes.  Pve  had  no  exercise  to-day,  and  I'm  going  for 
a  walk." 

"  It's  pouring  torrents,"  expostulated  Peter. 

"I  know  it." 

"  But  you'll  get  wet  through." 

"  I  hope  so.     I  like  to  walk  in  the  rain." 

Peter  put  his  hand  on  the  front  door-handle,  to  which 
this  conversation  had  carried  them.  "  You  mustn't  go 
out,"  he  said. 

"  Pm  going,"  said  Leonore,  made  all  the  more  eager 
now  that  it  was  forbidden. 

"  Please  don't,"  said  Peter  weakening. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  said  Leonore  decisively. 

"  Does  your  father  know  ?  " 

"Of  course  not." 

"  Then  you  should  ask  him.  It's  no  weather  for  you 
to  walk  in." 

"  I  shan't  ask  him." 

"  Then  I  shall,"  and  Peter  went  hurriedly  to  the  library. 

"Watts,"  he  said,  "it's  raining  torrents  and  Leonore 
insists  on  going  to  walk.  Please  say  she  is  not  to  go. " 

"  All  right,"  said  Watts,  not  looking  up  from  his  book. 

That  was  enough.  Peter  sped  back  to  the  hall.  It  was 
empty.  He  put  his  head  into  the  two  rooms.  Empty. 
He  looked  out  of  the  front  door.  There  in  the  distance, 
was  that  prettiest  of  figures,  distinguishable  even  when 
buried  in  a  mackintosh.  Peter  caught  up  a  cap  from  the 
hall  rack,  and  set  out  in  pursuit.  Leonore  was  walking 
rapidly,  but  it  did  not  take  Peter  many  seconds  to  come 
up  with  her. 

"  Your  father  says  you  are  not  to  go  out." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  since  I  am  out,"  said  Leonore,  sensibly. 

"  But  you  should  come  back  at  once." 

"  I  don't  care  to,"  said  Leonore. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  obey  him  ?  " 

"  He  never  would  have  cared  if  you  hadn't  interfered. 
It's  your  orders,  not  his.  So  I  intend  to  have  my  walk. " 

"  You  are  to  come  back,"  said  Peter. 

Leonore  stopped  and  faced  him.  "This  is  getting  in* 
teresting,"  she  thought.  "  We'll  see  who  can  be  the  most 
obstinate/'  Aloud  she  said,  "  Who  says  so  ?  " 

"I  do." 

"And  I  say  I  shan't" 


344 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


Peter  felt  his  helplessness.      "Please  come  back." 

Leonore  laughed  internally.      "I  don't  choose  to." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  make  you." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

That  was  a  conundrum,  indeed.  If  it  had  been  a  knotty 
law  point,  Peter  would  have  been  less  nonplussed  by  it. 

Leonore  felt  her  advantage,  and  used  it  shamefully. 
She  knew  that  Peter  was  helpless,  and  she  said,  "  How?w 
again,  laughing  at  him. 

Peter  groped  blindly.  "J  shall  make  you,"  he  said 
again,  for  lack  of  anything  better. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Leonore,  helping  him  out,  though  with 
a  most  insulting  laugh  in  her  voice  and  face,  "you  will 
get  a  string  and  lead  me  ?  " 

Peter  looked  the  picture  of  helplessness. 

"  Or  you  might  run  over  to  the  Goelets',  and  borrow 
their  baby's  perambulator,"  continued  that  segment  of  the 
Spanish  Inquisition.  If  ever  an  irritating,  aggravating, 
crazing,  exasperating,  provoking,  fretting,  enraging,  "I 
dare  you,"  was  uttered,  it  was  in  Leonore's  manner  as  she 
said  this. 

Peter  looked  about  hopelessly. 

"  Please  hurry  up  and  say  how,"  Leonore  continued, 
"for  I  want  to  get  down  to  the  cliff  walk.  It's  very  wet 
here  on  the  grass.  Perhaps  you  will  carry  me  back  ?  You 
evidently  think  me  a  baby  in  arms."  "  He's  such  fun  to 
tease,"  was  her  thought,  "and  you  can  say  just  what 
you  please  without  being  afraid  of  his  doing  anything  un- 
gentlemanly. "  Many  a  woman  dares  to  torture  a  man  for 
just  the  same  reason. 

She  was  quite  right  as  to  Peter.  He  had  recognized 
that  he  was  powerless ;  that  he  could  not  use  force. 
He  looked  the  picture  of  utter  indecision.  But  as  Leonore 
spoke,  a  sudden  change  came  over  his  face  and  figure. 
"  Leonore  had  said  it  was  wet  on  the  grass  !  Leonore 
would  wet  her  feet !  Leonore  would  take  cold  !  Leonoro 
would  have  pneumonia  !  Leonore  would  die  !  "  It  was  a 
shameful  chain  of  argument  for  a  light  of  the  bar,  logic 
unworthy  of  a  school-boy.  But  it  was  fearfully  real  to 
Peter  for  the  moment,  and  he  said  to  himself :  "  I  must  do 
it,  even  if  she  never  forgives  me."  Then  the  indecision 
left  his  face,  and  he  took  a  step  forward. 

Leonore  caught  her  breath  with  a  gasp.     The   "dare- 


OBSTINACY. 


345 


you  "  look,  suddenly  changed  to  a  very  frightened  one, 
and  turning,  she  sped  across  the  lawn,  at  her  utmost 
speed.  She  had  read  something  in  Peter's  face,  and  felt 
that  she  must  fly,  however  ignominious  such  retreat  might 
be. 

Peter  followed,  but  though  he  could  have  caught  her  in 
ten  seconds,  he  did  not.  As  on  a  former  occasion,  he 
thought  :  "  I'll  let  her  get  out  of  breath.  Then  she  will 
not  be  so  angry.  At  least  she  won't  be  able  to  talk.  How 
gracefully  she  runs  !  " 

Presently,  as  soon  as  Leonore  became  convinced  that 
Peter  did  not  intend  to  catch  her,  she  slowed  down  to  a 
walk.  Peter  at  once  joined  her. 

"  Now,"  he  said,    "  will  you  come  back  ?  " 

Leonore  was  trying  to  conceal  her  panting.  She  was 
not  going  to  acknowledge  that  she  was  out  of  breath 
since  Peter  wasn't.  So  she  made  no  reply. 

"You  are  walking  in  the  wrong  direction,"  said  Peter, 
laying  his  hand  on  her  arm.  Then,  since  she  made 
no  reply,  his  hand  encircled  the  arm,  and  he  stopped. 
Leonore  took  two  more  steps.  Then  she  too,  curiously 
enough,  halted. 

"Stop  holding  me,"  she  said,  not  entirely  without  be- 
traying her  breathlessness. 

"You  are  to  come  back,"  said  Peter. 

He  got  an  awful  look  from  those  eyes.  They  were 
perfectly  blazing  with  indignation. 

"Stop  holding  me,"  she  repeated. 

It  was  a  fearful  moment  to  Peter.  But  he  said,  with  an 
appeal  in  his  voice,  "  You  know  I  suffer  in  offending  you. 
I  did  not  believe  that  I  could  touch  you  without  your 
consent.  But  your  health  is  dearer  to  me  than  your  anger 
is  terrible.  You  must  come  home." 

So  Leonore,  realizing  that  helplessness  in  a  man  exists 
only  by  his  own  volition,  turned,  and  began  walking 
towards  the  now  distant  house.  Peter  at  once  released 
her  arm,  and  walked  beside  her.  Not  a  glimpse  did  he  get 
of  those  dear  eyes.  Leonore  was  looking  directly  before 
her,  and  a  grenadier  could  not  have  held  himself  straighten 
If  insulted  dignity  was  to  be  acted  in  pantomime,  the  actor 
could  have  obtained  some  valuable  points  from  that  walk. 

Peter  walked  along,  feeling  semi-criminal,  yet  semi- 
happy.  He  had  saved  Leonore  from  an  early  grave,  and 


346  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

that  was  worth  while  doing.  Then,  too,  he  could  look  at 
her,  and  that  was  worth  while  doing1.  The  run  had  made 
Leonore's  cheeks  blaze,  as  Peter's  touch  had  made  her  eyes. 
The  rain  had  condensed  in  little  diamonds  on  her  stray 
curls,  and  on  those  long  lashes.  It  seemed  to  Peter  that  he 
had  never  seen  her  lovelier.  The  longing  to  take  her  in  his 
arms  was  so  strong,  that  he  almost  wished  she  had  refused 
to  return.  But  then  Peter  knew  that  she  was  deeply 
offended,  and  that  unless  he  could  make  his  peace,  he 
was  out  of  favor  for  a  day  at  least.  That  meant  a  very 
terrible  thing  to  him.  A  whole  day  of  neglect ;  a  whole 
day  with  no  glimpse  of  those  eyes  ;  a  whole  day  without 
a  smile  from  those  lips  ! 

Peter  had  too  much  sense  to  say  anything  at  once.  He 
did  not  speak  till  they  were  back  in  the  hall.  Leonore 
had  planned  to  go  straight  to  her  room,  but  Peter  was 
rather  clever,  since  she  preceded  him,  in  getting  to  the 
foot  of  the  staircase  so  rapidly  that  he  was  there  first. 

This  secured  him  his  moment  for  speech.  He  said 
simply  :  "  Miss  D'Alloi,  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for 
offending  you." 

Leonore  had  her  choice  of  standing  silent,  of  pushing 
passed  Peter,  or  of  speaking.  If  she  had  done  the  first,  or 
the  second,  her  position  was  absolutely  impregnable. 
But  a  woman's  instinct  is  to  seek  defence  or  attack  in 
words  rather  than  actions.  So  she  said:  " You  had  no 
right,  and  you  were  very  rude."  She  did  not  look  at  Peter. 

"  It  pained  me  far  more  than  it  could  pain  you." 

Leonore  liked  Peter's  tone  of  voice,  but  she  saw  that 
her  position  was  weakening.  She  said,  "Let  me  by, 
please." 

Peter  with  reluctance  gave  her  just  room  to  pass.  He 
felt  that  he  had  not  said  half  of  what  he  wished,  but  he 
did  not  dare  to  offend  again. 

As  it  turned  out,  it  was  the  best  thing  he  could  do,  for 
the  moment  Leonore  had  passed  him,  she  exclaimed, 
"Why  !  Your  coat's  wringing  wet." 

"That's  nothing,"  said  Peter,  turning  to  the  voice. 

He  found  those  big  dark  eyes  at  last  looking  at  him, 
and  looking  at  him  without  anger.  Leonore  had  stopped 
on  the  step  above  him. 

"That  shows  how  foolish  you  were  to  go  out  in  the 
rain,  "  said  Leonore. 


OBSTINACY.  347 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter,  venturing  on  the  smallest       smiles. 

Leonore  promptly  explained  the  charge  in  Peter's 
"yes."  "It's  very  different,"  he  was  told.  "I  put  on 
tips  and  a  mackintosh.  You  didn't  put  on  anything.  And 
it  was  pouring  torrents." 

"But  I'm  tough,"  said  Peter.  "A  wetting  won't  hurt 
me." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Leonore.  "I've  tramped  for  hours 
in  the  Orkneys,  and  Sweden  and  Norway,  when  it  was 
raining.  But  then  I  was  dressed  for  it.  Go  and  put  on 
dry  clothes  at  once." 

That  was  what  Peter  had  intended  to  do,  but  he  saw 
his  advantage.  "It  isn't  worth  while,"  he  said. 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  obstinacy,"  said  Leonore.  "  I 
pity  your  wife,  if  you  ever  get  one.  She'll  have  an  awful 
time  of  it." 

Peter  did  not  like  that  view  at  all.  But  he  did  not 
forego  at  once  his  hope  of  getting  some  compensation 
out  of  Leonore's  wish.  So  he  said:  "It's  too  much 
trouble  to  change  my  clothes,  but  a  cup  of  your  tea  may 
keep  me  from  taking  cold."  It  was  nearly  five  o'clock, 
and  Peter  was  longing  for  that  customary  half-hour  at  the 
tea-table. 

Leonore  said  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  "When 
you've  changed  your  clothes,  I'll  make  you  a  cup." 
Then  she  went  upstairs.  When  she  had  reached  the 
second  floor,  she  turned,  and  leaning  over  the  balustrade 
of  the  gallery,  said,  "Peter." 

"Yes,"  said  Peter,  surveying  her  from  below,  and 
thinking  how  lovely  she  was. 

Leonore  was  smiling  saucily.  She  said  in  triumph  : 
"I  had  my  way.  I  did  get  my  walk."  Then  she  went 
to  her  room,  her  head  having  a  very  victorious  carriage. 

Peter  went  to  his  room,  smiling.  "  It's  a  good  lawyer, " 
he  told  his  mirror,  "who  compromises  just  enough  to 
make  both  sides  think  they've  won. "  Peter  changed  his 
clothes  with  the  utmost  despatch,  and  hurried  downstairs 
to  the  tea-table.  She  was  not  there !  Peter  waited 
nearly  five  minutes  quietly,  with  a  patience  almost  colos- 
sal. Then  he  began  to  get  restless.  He  wandered  about 
the  room  for  another  two  minutes.  Then  he  became 
woe-begone.  "I  thought  she  had  forgiven  me,"  he 
remarked. 


348  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"What?"  said  the  loveliest  of  visions  from  the  door- 
way. Most  women  would  have  told  one  that  the  beauty 
lay  in  the  Parisian  tea-gown.  Peter  knew  better.  Still, 
he  was  almost  willing  to  forgive  Leonore  the  delay 
caused  by  the  donning  of  it,  the  result  was  so  eminently 
satisfactory.  "And  it  will  take  her  as  long  to  make  tea 
as  usual,  anyway,"  he  thought. 

"  Hadn't  I  better  put  some  rum  into  it  to-day  ?  "  he  was 
asked,  presently. 

"You  may  put  anything  in  it,  except  the  sugar  tongs," 
said  Peter,  taking  possession  of  that  article. 

"But  then  I  can't  put  any  sugar  in." 

"Fingers  were  made  before  forks,"  suggested  Peter. 
"You  don't  want  to  give  me  anything  bitter,  do  you  ?  " 

"You  deserve  it,"  said  Leonore,  but  she  took  the  lumps 
in  her  fingers,  and  dropped  them  in  the  cup. 

"  I  can't  wait  five  years  1  "  thought  Peter.  "  I  can't  wait 
five  months — weeks — days — hours — miautes — sec " 

Watts  saved  Peter  from  himself  by  coming  in  here. 
"  Hello  !  Here  you  are.  How  cosy  you  look.  I  tried 
to  find  you  both  a  few  minutes  ago,  but  thought  you  must 
have  gone  to  walk  after  all.  Here,  Peter.  Here's  a 
special  delivery  letter,  for  which  I  receipted  a  while  ago. 
Give  me  a  cup,  Dot." 

Peter  said,  "  Excuse  me,"  and,  after  a  glance  at  the  envel- 
ope, opened  the  letter  with  a  sinking  sensation.  He  read 
it  quickly,  and  then  reached  over  and  rang  the  bell. 
When  the  footman  came,  Peter  rose  and  said  something 
in  a  low  voice  to  him.  Then  he  came  back  to  his  tea. 

"  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope,"  asked  Watts. 

"Yes.  At  least  I  am  called  back  to  New  York,"  said 
Peter  gloomily. 

"  Bother,"  said  Watts.      "  When  ?  " 

"  I  shall  leave  by  the  night  express." 

"Nonsense.  If  it  was  so  important  as  that,  they'd  have 
Wired  you." 

"  It  isn't  a  matter  which  could  be  telegraphed." 

"  What  is  it,  Peter  ?  "  said  Leonore,  putting  her  finger  in. 

"It's  confidential." 

So  Leonore  did  not  ask  again.  But  when  the  tea  was 
finished,  and  all  had  started  upstairs,  Leonore  saidf 
"Peter,"  on  the  landing.  When  Peter  stopped,  she  whis- 
pered, "Why  are  you  going  to  New  York?  " 


OBSTINACY. 

'  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Peter. 
'Yes,  you  can,  now  that  papa  isn't  here.' 
'No." 

'Yes.     I  know  it's  politics,  and  you  are  to  tell  me/* 
'It  isn't  politics." 
'  Then  what  is  it  ?  " 
'  You  really  want  to  know  ?" 
'  Of  course. " 

'It's  something  really  confidential/' 
Leonore  gave  Peter  one  look  of  insulted  dignity,  and 
went  upstairs  to  her  room.      "He's  different,"  she  said. 
"He  isn't  a  bit  afraid  of  displeasing  me  anymore.     I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  him/' 

Peter  found  Jenifer  waiting.  "Only  pack  the  grip,"  he- 
said.  "I  hope  to  come  back  in  a  few  days."  But  he 
looked  very  glum,  and  the  glumness  stuck  to  him  even 
after  he  had  dressed  and  had  descended  to  dinner. 

"I  am  leaving  my  traps,"  he  told  Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "  For 
I  hope  to  be  back  next  week." 

"  Next  week  !  "  cried  Watts.  "What  has  been  sprung 
on  you  that  will  take  you  that  long  ?  " 

"It  doesn't  depend  on  me,  unfortunately,"  said  Peter, 
"or  I  wouldn't  go." 

When  the  carriage  was  announced  later,  Peter  shook 
hands  with  Watts  and  Mrs.  D'Alloi,  and  then  held  out 
his  hand  to  Leonore.  "Good-bye,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  me  why  you  are  going?  "  said 
that  young  lady,  with  her  hands  behind  her,  in  the  prettiest 
of  poses. 
"No/' 

"Then  I  shan't  say  good-bye/' 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"   said  Peter,  quietly;  "please  say 
good-bye. " 
"No." 

That  refusal  caused  Peter  gloom  all  the  way  to  the 
station.  But  if  Leonore  could  have  looked  into  the  future 
she  would  have  seen  in  her  refusal  the  bitterest  sorrow^ 
she  had  ever  known. 


250  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


CHAPTER  LV. 
OATHS. 

As  soon  as  Peter  was  on  the  express  he  went  into  the 
smoking  cabin  of  the  sleeping-car,  and  lighting  a  cigar, 
took  out  a  letter  and  read  it  over  again.  While  he  was 
Still  reading  it,  a  voice  exclaimed  : 

"  Good  !  Here's  Peter.  So  you  are  in  it  too  ?  "  Ogden 
continued,  as  Ray  and  he  took  seats  by  Peter. 

"  I  always  did  despise  Anarchists  and  Nihilists,"  sighed 
Ray,  "since  I  was  trapped  into  reading  some  of  those 
maudlin  Russian  novels,  with  their  eighth-century  ideas 
grafted  on  nineteenth-century  conditions.  Baby  brains 
stimulated  with  whisky. " 

Ogden  turned  to  Peter.  "How  serious  is  it  likely  to 
be,  Colonel  ?  " 

"I  haven't  any  idea,"  replied  Peter.  "The staff  is  of 
the  opposite  party  now,  and  I  only  have  a  formal  notifi- 
cation to  hold  my  regiment  in  readiness.  If  it's  nothing 
but  this  Socialist  and  Anarchist  talk,  there  is  no  real  dan- 
ger in  it. " 

"Why  not?" 

"This  country  can  never  be  in  danger  from  discontent 
with  our  government,  for  it's  what  the  majority  want  it 
to  be,  or  if  not,  it  is  made  so  at  the  next  election.  That 
is  the  beauty  of  a  Democracy.  The  majority  always  sup- 
ports the  government.  We  fight  our  revolutions  with 
ballots,  not  with  bullets." 

''  Yet  Most  says  that  blood  must  be  shed." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Peter,  "that  he  has  just  reached  the 
stage  of  intelligence  which  doctors  had  attained  when 
they  bled  people  to  make  them  strong. " 

"What  can  you  do  with  such  a  fellow's  talk?  You 
can't  argue  with  him,"  said  Ogden. 

"Talk!"  muttered  Ray.  "Don't  dignify  it  with  that 
word.  Gibberish !  " 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "It's  too  earnest  to  deserve  that 
name.  The  man  can't  express  himself,  but  way  dowa 


OATHS.  351 

underneath  all  the  absurd  talk  of  '  natural  monopolies,1 
and  of  '  the  oppression  of  the  money-power/  there  lies  a 
germ  of  truth,  without  which  none  of  their  theories  would 
have  a  corporal's  guard  of  honest  believers.  We  have 
been  working  towards  that  truth  in  an  unsystematic  way 
for  centuries,  but  we  are  a  long  way  from  it,  and  till  we 
solve  how  to  realize  it,  we  shall  have  ineffectual  discon- 
tent." 

"But  that  makes  the  whole  thing  only  the  more 
arrant  nonsense,"  grumbled  Ray.  "  It's  foolish  enough  in 
all  conscience  sake,  if  they  had  a  chance  of  success,  but 
when  they  haven't  any,  why  the  deuce  do  they  want  to 
drag  us  poor  beggars  back  from  Newport  \  " 

"Why  did  Rome  insist  on  burning  while  Nero  fiddled  ?  " 
queried  Peter  smiling.  "We  should  hear  nothing  of 
socialism  and  anarchy  if  Newport  and  the  like  had  no 
existence." 

"I  believe  at  heart  you're  a  Socialist  yourself,"  cried 
Ray. 

"  No  danger,"  laughed  Ogden;  "his  bank  account  is  too 
large.  No  man  with  Peter's  money  is  ever  a  Socialist." 

"You  forget,"  said  Ray,  "that  Peter  is  always  an  ex- 
ception to  the  rule. " 

"No,"  said  Peter.  "I  disagree  with  Socialists  entirely 
both  in  aims  and  methods,  but  I  sympathize  with  them, 
for  I  see  the  fearful  problems  which  they  think  their 
theories  will  solve,  and  though  I  know  how  mistaken 
they  are,  I  cannot  blame  them,  when  I  see  how  seriously 
and  honestly  they  believe  in,  and  how  unselfishly  they 
work  for,  their  ideas.  Don't  blame  the  Socialists,  for  they 
are  quite  as  conscientious  as  were  the  Abolitionists. 
Blame  it  to  the  lack  of  scientific  education,  which  leaves 
these  people  to  believe  that  theories  containing  a  half 
truth  are  so  wholly  true  that  they  mean  the  regeneration 
and  salvation  of  society." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,"  sighed  Ray,  "for  you've 
thought  of  it,  and  I  haven't.  I  don't  want  to,  either.  I 
thank  the  Lord  I'm  not  as  serious  as  you,  Graveyard. 
But  if  you  want  to  air  your  theory,  I'll  lend  you  my  ears, 
for  friendship's  sake.  I  don't  promise  to  remember." 

Peter  puffed  his  cigar  for  a  moment.      "  I  sometimes 
conclude,"  he  said,  "  that  the  people  who  are  most  in  need  ) 
of  education,  are  the  college-bred  men.     They  seem  to 


352 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


think  they've  done  all  the  work  and  study  of  their  life  in 
their  four  years,  and  so  can  dissipate  mentally  ever  after." 
But  Peter  smiled  as  he  said  this  and  continued,  more 
seriously:  " Society  and  personal  freedom  are  only  pos- 
sible in  conjunction,  when  law  or  public  opinion  interferes 
to  the  degree  of  repressing  all  individual  acts  that  inter- 
fere with  the  freedom  of  others;  thus  securing  the  greatest 
individual  freedom  to  all.  So  far  as  physical  force  is  con- 
cerned, we  have  pretty  well  realized  this  condition. 
Because  a  man  is  strong  he  can  no  longer  take  advantage 
of  the  weak.  But  strength  is  not  limited  to  muscle.  To 
protect  the  weak  mind  from  the  strong  mind  is  an  equal 
duty,  and  a  far  more  difficult  task.  So  far  we  have  only 
partially  succeeded.  In  this  difficulty  lies  the  whole 
problem.  Socialism,  so  far  as  it  attempts  to  repress  in- 
dividualism, and  reduce  mankind  to  an  evenness  opposed 
to  all  natural  laws,  is  suicidal  of  the  best  in  favor  of 
mediocrity.  But  so  far  as  it  attempts  to  protect  that 
mediocrity  and  weakness  from  the  superior  minds  of  the 
best,  it  is  only  in  line  with  the  laws  which  protect  us  from 
murder  and  robbery.  You  can't  expect  men  of  the  Most 
variety,  however,  to  draw  such  distinctions." 

"I  do  wish  they  would  settle  it,  without  troubling  me," 
groaned  Ray.  "Lispenard's  right.  A  man's  a  fool  who 
votes,  or  serves  on  a  jury,  or  joins  a  regiment.  What's 
the  good  of  being  a  good  citizen,  when  the  other  fellow 
won't  be  ?  I'm  sick  of  being  good  for  nothing. " 

"Have  you  just  discovered  that?"  laughed  Ogden. 
"  You're  progressing. " 

"No,"  said  Ray.  "I  am  good  for  one  thing.  Like  a 
good  many  other  men  I  furnish  the  raw  material  on  which 
the  dearest  of  women  may  lavish  her  affection.  Heigh- 
ho  !  I  wish  I  was  before  the  fire  with  her  now.  It's 
rather  rough  to  have  visits  to  one's  wife  cut  short  in  this 
way. " 

Peter  rose.  "I  am  going  to  get  some  sleep,  for  we 
don't  know  what's  before  us,  and  may  not  have  much 
after  to-night.  But,  Ray,  there's  a  harder  thing  than  leav- 
ing one's  wife  at  such  a  time." 

"  What's  that,  Peter?  "  asked  Ray,  looking  at  Peter  with 
surprise. 

"To  know  that  there  is  no  one  to  whom  your  going  or 
return  really  matters. "  Peter  passed  out  of  the  cabin. 


OATHS.  353 

"By  George  !  "  said  Ray,  "  if  it  wasn't  Peter,  I'd  have 
sworn  there  was  salt  water  in  his  eyes. " 

"Annekehas  always  insisted  that  he  was  lonely.  I 
wonder  if  she's  right  ?  "  Ogden  queried. 

"  If  he  is,  why  the  deuce  does  he  get  off  in  those  solitary 
quarters  of  his  ?  " 

"Ray,"  said  Ogden,  "I  have  a  sovereign  contempt 
for  a  man  who  answers  one  question  with  another." 

Peter  reached  the  city  at  six  the  next  morning,  and,  de- 
spite the  hour,  began  his  work  at  once.  He  made  a 
number  of  calls  in  the  district,  holding  whispered  dialogues- 
with  men  ;  who,  as  soon  as  Peter  was  gone,  hurried  about 
and  held  similar  conversations  with  other  men ;  wha 
promptly  went  and  did  the  same  to  still  others.  While 
they  were  doing  this,  Peter  drove  uptown,  and  went  into 
Dickel's  riding  academy.  As  he  passed  through  the 
office,  a  man  came  out. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Stirling.     Good-morning." 

'•'Good-morning,  Mr.  Byrnes,"  said  Peter.  "  How  seri- 
ous is  it  likely  to  be  ?  " 

"We  can't  say  yet.  But  the  force  has  all  it  can  do  now 
to  'handle  the  Anarchists  and  unemployed,  and  if  this 
strike  takes  place  we  shall  need  you." 

Peter  passed  into  another  room  where  were  eight  men. 

1  ( Good-morning,  Colonel,"  said  one.  ' '  You  are  prompt. "  \^  < 

"What  is  the  trouble  ?  "  NJ v 

"The Central  has  decided  to  make  a  general  reduction, 
They  put  it  in  force  at  noon  to-day,  and  are  so  certain 
that  the  men  will  go  out,  that  they've  six  hundred  new      j 
hands  ready  somewhere  to  put  right  in. "  r\F 

"Byrnes  tells  me  he  has  all  he  can  do."  v  jf 

"Yes.     We've  obtained  the  governor's  consent  to  em-   /^ 
body  eight  regiments.     It  isn't  only  the  strike  that's  seri-  * 
ous,  but  this  parade  of  the  unemployed  to-morrow,  and 
the  meeting  which  the  Anarchists  have  called  in  the  City 
Hall.     Byrnes  reports  a  very  ugly  feeling,  and  buying  of 
arms. " 

"It's  rather  rough  on  you,  Stirling,"  spoke  up  a  man, 
"  to  have  it  come  while  you  are  a  nominee." 

Peter  smiled,  and  passed  into  the  room  beyond.  ' '  Good- 
morning,  General  Canfield,"  he  said.  "I  have  taken  the 
necessary  steps  to  embody  my  regiment.  Are  there  any 
further  orders  ? " 


354 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


e<  If  we  need  you,  we  shall  put  you  at  the  Central 
Station,"  the  officer  replied  ;  "so,  if  you  do  not  know  the 
lay  of  the  land,  you  had  better  familiarize  yourself  at 
once. " 

"General  Canfield,"  said  Peter,  "my  regiment  has 
probably  more  sympathizers  with  the  strikers  than  has  any 
other  in  the  city.  It  could  not  be  put  in  a  worse  place. " 

"  Are  you  objecting  to  orders  ?  "  said  the  man,  in  a  sharp 
decisive  voice. 

"No,"  replied  Peter.  "I  am  stating  a  fact,  in  hopes 
that  it  may  prevent  trouble." 

The  man  and  Peter  looked  each  other  in  the  eye. 

"You  have  your  orders,"  said  the  man,  but  he  didn't 
look  pleased  or  proud. 

Peter  turned  and  left  the  room,  looking  very  grave. 
He  took  his  cab  and  went  to  his  quarters.  He  ate  a  hur- 
ried breakfast,  and  then  went  down  into  the  streets.  They 
seemed  peaceably  active  as  he  walked  through  them.  A 
small  boy  was  calling  an  extra,  but  it  was  in  reference  to 
the  arrival  of  a  much-expected  racing-yacht.  There  was 
nothing  to  show  that  a  great  business  depression  rested 
with  crushing  weight  on  the  city,  and  especially  on  the 
poor ;  that  anarchy  was  lifting  its  head,  and  from  hunger- 
ing for  bread  was  coming  to  hunger  for  blood  and  blaze  ; 
that  capital  and  labor  were  preparing  to  lock  arms  in  a 
struggle  which  perhaps  meant  death  and  destruction. 

The  armory  door  was  opened  only  wide  enough  to  let 
a  man  squeeze  through,  and  was  guarded  by  a  keeper. 
Peter  passed  in,  however,  without  question,  and  heard  a 
hum  of  voices  which  showed  that  if  anarchy  was  gather- 
ing, so  too  was  order.  Peter  called  his  officers  together, 
and  gave  a  few  orders.  Then  he  turned  and  whispered 
for  a  moment  with  Dennis. 

"They  don't  put  us  there,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Dennis. 

"Yes." 

"Are  they  mad?" 

"They've  given  us  the  worst  job,  not  merely  as  a  job, 
but  especially  for  the  regiment.  Perhaps  they  won't  mind 
if  things  do  go  wrong." 

"Yez  mean?" 

"What  will  people  say  of  me  on  November  fourth,  it 
my  regiment  flunks  on  September  thirtieth  ?  " 

' '  Arrah  musha  dillah  ! "  cried  Dennis.     "  An'  is  that  it  ?  M 


OATHS.  355 

1 '  I'm  afraid  so.     Will  the  men  stand  by  me  ?  " 

"Oi'll  make  them.  Yez  see,"  shouted  Dennis,  "Oi'll 
tell  the  b'ys  they  are  tryin'  to  put  yez  in  a  hole,  an'  they'll 
stan*  by  yez,  no  matter  what  yez  are  told  to  do." 

As  quickly  as  possible  Peter  put  on  his  fatigue  uniform. 
When  he  came  out,  it  was  to  find  that  the  rank  and  file 
had  done  the  same,  and  were  now  standing  in  groups 
about  the  floor.  A  moment  later  they  were  lined  up. 

Peter  stepped  forward  and  said  in  a  clear,  ringing  voice  : 
"  Before  the  roll  is  called  I  wish  to  say  a  word.  We  may 
receive  orders  any  moment  to  take  possession  of  the 
buildings  and  switches  at  the  Central  Station,  to  protect 
the  property  and  operators  of  that  road.  This  will  be 
hard  to  some  of  you,  who  believe  the  strikers  are  right. 
But  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that.  We  have  taken 
our  oath  to  preserve  order  and  law,  and  we  are  interested 
in  having  it  done,  far  more  than  is  the  capitalist,  for  he 
can  buy  protection,  whether  laws  are  enforced  or  not, 
while  the  laboring  man  cannot.  But  if  any  man  here  is 
not  prepared  to  support  the  State  in  its  duty  to  protect  the 
life  and  property  of  all,  by  an  enforcement  of  the  laws,  I 
wish  to  know  it  now." 

Peter  stood  a  moment  waiting,  and  then  said,  "  Thank 
you,  men." 

The  roll-call  was  made,  and  Peter  sent  off  a  line  to 
headquarters,  stating  that  his  regiment,  with  only  eighteen 
reported  "missing"  was  mustered  and  ready  for  further 
orders.  Then  the  regiment  broke  ranks,  and  waited. 

Just  as  two  o'clock  struck  a  despatch  was  handed 
Peter.  A  moment  later  came  the  rap  of  the  drum,  and 
the  men  rose  from  the  floor  and  fell  in.  A  few  sharp,  quick 
words  were  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  Guns  rose  to 
the  shoulders  with  a  click  and  a  movement  almost 
mechanical.  The  regiment  swung  from  a  long  straight 
line  into  companies,  the  door  rolled  open,  and  without  a 
sound,  except  the  monotonous  pound  of  the  regular  tread, 
the  regiment  passed  into  the  street.  At  the  corner  they 
turned  sharply,  and  marched  up  a  side  street,  so  narrow 
that  the  ranks  had  to  break  their  lines  to  get  within  the 
curbs.  So  without  sound  of  drum  or  music  they  passed 
through  street  after  street.  A  regiment  is  thrilling  when 
it  parades  to  music :  it  is  more  so  when  it  marches  in 
silence. 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Presently  it  passed  into  a  long  tunnel,  where  the  foot- 
fall echoed  in  a  startling  way.  But  as  it  neared  the  other 
•end,  a  more  startling  sound  could  be  heard.  It  was  a 
low  murmur,  as  of  many  voices,  and  of  voices  that  were 
not  pleasant.  Peter's  wisdom  in  availing  himself  of  the 
protection  and  secrecy  of  the  tunnel  as  an  approach 
became  obvious. 

A  moment  later,  as  the  regiment  debouched  from  the 
tunnel's  mouth,  the  scene  broke  upon  them.  A  vast 
crowd  filled  Fourth  Avenue  and  Forty-second  Street. 
Filled  even  the  cut  of  the  entrance  to  the  tunnel.  An 
angry  crowd,  judging  from  the  sounds. 

A  sharp  order  passed  down  the  ranks,  and  the  many 
broad  lines  melted  into  a  long  thin  one  again,  even  as  the 
regiment  went  forward.  It  was  greeted  with  yells,  and 
bottles  and  bricks  were  hurled  from  above  it,  but  the 
appearance  of  the  regiment  had  taken  the  men  too  much  by 
surprise  for  them  to  do  more.  The  head  entered  the  mob, 
and  seemed  to  disappear.  More  and  more  of  the  regiment 
was  swallowed  up.  Finally,  except  to  those  who  could 
trace  the  bright  glint  of  the  rifle-barrels,  it  seemed  to  have 
been  submerged.  Then  even  the  rifles  disappeared.  The 
regiment  had  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  was  within 
the  station.  Peter  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  To  march 
*rp  Fifth  Avenue,  with  empty  guns,  in  a  parade,  between 
ten  thousand  admiring  spectators  is  one  thing.  To  march 
between  ten  thousand  angry  strikers  and  their  sympa- 
thizers, with  ball  cartridges  in  the  rifles,  is  quite  another. 
It  is  all  the  difference  between  smoking  a  cigar  after  din- 
ner, and  smoking  one  in  a  powder  magazine. 

The  regiment's  task  had  only  just  begun,  however. 
Peter  had  orders  to  clear  the  streets  about  the  station. 
After  a  consultation  with  the  police  captain,  the  companies 
were  told  off,  and  filing  out  of  the  various  doors,  they 
began  work.  Peter  had  planned  his  debouchments  so 
as  to  split  the  mob  into  sections,  knowing  that  each  frag- 
ment pushed  back  rendered  the  remainder  less  formi- 
dable. First  a  sally  was  made  from  the  terminal  station, 
and  after  two  lines  of  troops  had  been  thrown  across  Forty- 
second  Street,  the  second  was  ordered  to  advance.  Thus 
a  great  tongue  of  the  mob,  which  stretched  to  wards  Third 
Avenue,  was  pressed  back,  almost  to  that  street,  and  held 
there,  without  a  quarter  of  the  mob  knowing1  that  anything 


OATHS. 


357 


was  being  done.  Then  a  similar  operation  was  repeated 
©n  Forty-third  Street  and  Forty-fourth  Street,  and  posses- 
sion was  taken  of  Madison  Avenue.  Another  wedge  was 
driven  into  the  mob  and  a  section  pushed  along  Forty- 
second,  nearly  to  Fifth  Avenue.  Then  what  was  left  of 
the  mob  was  pushed  back  from  the  front  of  the  building 
down  Park  Avenue.  Again  Peter  breathed  more  freely. 

"  I  think  the  worst  is  done,"  he  told  his  officers.  "  For- 
tunately the  crowd  did  not  expect  us,  and  was  not  prepared 
to  resist  If  you  can  once  split  a  mob,  so  that  it  has  no 
centre,  and  can't  get  together  again,  except  by  going 
round  the  block,  you've  taken  the  heart  out  of  it" 

As  he  said  this  a  soldier  came  up,  and  saluting,  said  : 
"Captain  Moriarty  orders  me  to  inform  you  that  a  com- 
mittee of  the  strikers  ask  to  see  you,  Colonel." 

Peter  followed  the  messenger.  He  found  a  couple  of 
sentries  marking  a  line.  On  one  side  of  this  line  sat  or 
reclined  Company  D.  and  eight  policemen.  On  the  other 
stood  a  group  of  a  dozen  men,  and  back  of  them,  the 
crowd 

Peter  passed  the  sentry  line,  and  went  up  to  the  group. 
Three  were  the  committee.  The  rest  were  the  ubiquitous 
reporters.  From  the  newspaper  report  of  one  of  the  latter 
we  quote  the  rest : 

You  wish  to  see  me  ? "  asked  Colonel  Stir- 
ling. 

«  Yes,  Colonel,"  said  Chief  Potter.  "  We  are 
here  to  remonstrate  with  you." 

"We've  done  nothing  yet,"  said  Doggett, 
and  till  we  had,  the  troops  oughtn't  to  have 
been  called  in." 

"  And  now  people  say  that  the  scabs  are  to 
be  given  a  regimental  escort  to  the  depot,  and 
will  go  to  work  at  eight." 

"  We've  been  quiet  till  now,"  growled  a  man 
in  the  crowd  surlily,  "but  we  won't  stand  the 
militia  protecting  the  scabs  and  rats." 

"  Are  you  going  to  fight  for  the  capitalist  ?  " 
ask  Kurfeldt,  when  Colonel  Stirling  stood  silent. 

"I  am  fighting  no  man's  battle,  Kurfeldt," 
replied  Colonel  Stirling.  "  I  am  obeying  orders." 

The  committee  began  to  look  anxious. 

"  You're  no  friend  of  the  poor  man,  and  you 
needn't  pose  any  more,"  shouted  one  of  the 
crowd. 

"  Shut  your  mouth,"  said  Kurfeldt  to  the 
crowd.  "  Colonel  Stirling,"  he  continued,  "we 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


know  you're  our  friend.  But  you  can't  stay  so 
if  you  fight  labor.  Take  your  choice.  Be  the 
rich  man's  servant,  or  our  friend." 

"  I  know  neither  rich  man  nor  poor  man  in 
this,"  Colonel  Stirling  said.  "I  know  only  the 
law.'1 

"  You'll  let  the  scabs  go  on  ?  " 

"I  know  no  such  class.  If  I  find  any  man 
doing  what  the  law  allows  him  to  do,  I  shall 
not  interfere.  But  I  shall  preserve  order." 

"  Will  you  order  your  men  to  fire  on  us  ?  " 

"  If  you  break  the  laws." 

"Do  it  at  your  peril,"  cried  Potter  angrily. 
"  For  every  shot  your  regiment  fires,  you'll  lose 
a  thousand  votes  on  election  day." 

Colonel  Stirling  turned  on  him,  his  face 
blazing  with  scorn.  "  Votes,"  he  cried.  "  Do 
you  think  I  would  weigh  votes  at  such  a  time  ? 
There  is  no  sacrifice  I  would  not  make,  rather 
than  give  the  order  that  ends  a  human  life  ;  and 
you  think  that  paper  ballots  can  influence  my 
action  ?  Votes  compared  to  men's  lives  I  " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Doggett,  "  don't  come  the  heavy 
nobility  racket  on  us.  We  are  here  for  busi- 
ness. Votes  is  votes,  and  you  needn't  pretend 
you  don't  think  so." 

Colonel  Stirling  was  silent  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said  calmly  :  "  I  am  here  to  do  my 
duty,  not  to  win  votes.  There  are  not  votes 
enough  in  this  country  to  make  me  do  more  or 
less." 

"  Hear  him  talk,"  jeered  one  of  the  crowd, 
"and  he  touting  round  the  saloons  to  get 
votes.  " 

The  crowd  jeered  and  hissed  unpleasantly. 

"  Come,  Colonel,"  said  Kurfeldt,  "  we  know 
you're  after  votes  this  year,  and  know  too  much 
to  drive  them  away.  You  ain't  goin*  to  lose 
fifty  thousand  votes,  helpin'  scabs  to  take  the 
bread  away  from  us,  only  to  see  you  and  your 
party  licked." 

"  No,"  shouted  a  man  in  the  crowd.  "  You 
don't  dare  monkey  with  votes  !  " 

Colonel  Stirling  turned  and  faced  the  crowd. 
"Do  you  want  to  know  how  much  I  care  for 
votes,"  he  called,  his  head  reared  in  the  air. 

"Speak  up  loud,  sonny,"  shouted  a  man  far 
back  in  the  mass,  "  we  all  want  to  hear." 
Colonel  Stirling's  voice  rang  quite  clear  enough, 
'Votes  be  damned!"  he  said,  and  turning  on 
iis  heel,  strode  back  past  the  sentries.    And  the 
strikers  knew  the  fate  of  their  attempt  to  keep 
out  the  scabs.    Colonel  Stirling's  "  damn  "  had 
damned  the  strike  as  well  as  the  votes. 


CUT  BONO  f  359 

Dead  silence  fell  on  the  committee  and  crowd.  Even 
Company  D.  looked  astounded.  Finally,  however,  one  of 
the  committee  said,  ' '  There's  no  good  wasting  time  here. " 
Then  a  reporter  said  to  a  confrere,  "What  a  stunning 
headline  that  will  make  ?  "  Then  the  Captain  of  Company 
D.  got  his  mouth  closed  enough  to  exclaim,  "  Oi  always 
thought  he  could  swear  if  he  tried  hard.  Begobs,  b'ys, 
it's  proud  av  him  we  should  be  this  day.  Didn't  he  swear 
strong  anj  fine  like  ?  Howly  hivens  !  it's  a  delight  to  hear 
damn  said  like  that." 

For  some  reason  that  "swear-word  "  pleased  New  York 
and  the  country  generally,  showing  that  even  an  oath  has 
its  purpose  in  this  world,  so  long  as  it  is  properly  used. 
Dean  Swift  said  a  lie  "was  too  good  to  be  lavished 
about."  So  it  is  of  profanity.  The  crowd  understood 
Peter's  remark  as  they  would  have  understood  nothing 
else.  They  understood  that  besides  those  rifles  and 
bayonets  there  was  something  else  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
So  in  this  case,  it  was  not  wasted. 

And  Mr.  Bohlmann,  Christian  though  he  was,  as  he  read 
his  paper  that  evening  cried,  "  Och  !  Dod  Beder  Stirling 
he  always  does  say  chust  der  righd  ding  1 " 


CHAPTER  LVI. 
GUI  BONO? 

OF  the  further  doings  of  that  day  it  seems  hardly  nec- 
essary to  write,  for  the  papers  recorded  it  with  a  fulness 
impossible  here.  The  gathering  crowds.  The  reinforce- 
ment of  the  militia.  The  clearing  and  holding  of  Forty- 
second  Street  to  the  river.  The  arrival  of  the  three  barge- 
loads  of  "  scabs. "  Their  march  through  that  street  to 
the  station  safely,  though  at  every  cross  street  greeted 
with  a  storm  of  stones  and  other  missiles.  The  struggle 
of  the  mob  at  the  station  to  force  back  the  troops  so  as 
to  get  at  the  "rats."  The  impact  of  the  "thin  line" 
and  that  dense  seething  mass  of  enraged,  crazed  men. 
The  yielding  of  the  troops  from  mere  pressure.  The 
order  to  the  second  rank  to  fix  bayonets.  The  pushing 
back  of  the  crowd  once  more.  The  crack  of  a  revolver. 


360  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Then  the  dozen  shots  fired  almost  simultaneously.  The 
great  surge  of  the  mob  forward.  The  quick  order,  and 
the  rattle  of  guns,  as  they  rose  to  the  shoulder.  Another 
order,  and  the  sheet  of  flame.  The  great  surge  of  the 
mob  backwards.  Then  silence.  Silence  in  the  ranks. 
Silence  in  the  mob.  Silence  in  those  who  lay  on  the 
ground  between  the  two. 

Capital  and  Labor  were  disagreed  as  to  a  ten  per  cent, 
reduction  of  wages,  and  were  trying  to  settle  it.  At  first 
blush  capital  had  the  best  of  it.  "  Only  a  few  strikers 
and  militia-men  killed,"  was  the  apparent  result  of  that 
struggle.  The  scabs  were  in  safety  inside  the  station,  and 
trains  were  already  making  up,  preparatory  to  a  resump- 
tion of  traffic.  But  capital  did  not  go  scot-free.  "Firing 
in  the  streets  of  New  York,"  was  the  word  sent  out  all 
over  the  world,  and  on  every  exchange  in  the  country, 
stocks  fell.  Capital  paid  twenty-five  million  dollars  that 
day,  for  those  few  ounces  of  lead.  Such  a  method  of 
settlement  seems  rather  crude  and  costly,  for  the  last  dec- 
ade of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Boys  all  over  the  city  were  quickly  crying  extras  of  the 
"Labor-party"  organ,  the  first  column  of  which  was 
headed : 

BUTCHER    STIRLING 


THE  NOMINEE  OF  THE  DEMOCRATIC  PARTY 

SHOOTS   DOWN   UNARMED   MEN 

IN 

COLD    BLOOD. 

This  was  supplemented  by  inflammatory  broadsides. 
Men  stood  up  on  fences,  lamp-posts,  or  barrels,  wherever 
they  could  get  an  audience,  and  shrieked  out  invectives 
against  police,  troops,  government,  and  property ;  and 
waved  red  flags.  Orders  went  out  to  embody  more  regi- 
ments. Timid, people  retired  indoors,  and  bolted  their 
shutters.  The  streets  became  deserted,  except  where  they 
were  filled  by  groups  of  angry  men  listening  to  angrier 
speakers.  It  was  not  a  calm  night  in  New  York. 

Yet  in  reality,  the  condition  was  less  serious,  for  repre- 
sentatives of  Capital,  Labor,  and  Government  were  in 


CUI  BO  NO?  361 

consultation.  Inside  the  station,  in  the  Directors'  room 
of  the  railroad,  its  officials,  a  committee  of  the  strikers, 
and  an  officer  in  fatigue  uniform,  with  a  face  to  match, 
were  seated  in  great  leather-covered  chairs,  around  a  large 
table.  When  they  had  first  gathered,  there  had  been  dark 
brows,  and  every  sentence  had  been  like  the  blow  of  flint 
on  steel.  At  one  moment  all  but  the  officer  had  risen 
from  their  seats,  and  the  meeting  had  seemed  ended 
But  the  officer  had  said  something  quietly,  and  once  more 
they  had  seated  themselves.  Far  into  the  night  they  sat, 
while  mobs  yelled,  and  sentries  marched  their  beats. 
When  the  gathering  ended,  the  scowls  were  gone.  Civil 
partings  were  exchanged,  and  the  committee  and  the  offi- 
cer passed  out  together. 

"That  Stirling  is  a  gritty  bull-dog  for  holding  on,  isn't 
he?"  said  one  of  the  railroad  officials.  "It's  a  regular 
surrender  for  us/' 

"Yes,  but  we  couldn't  afford  to  be  too  obstinate  with 
him,  for  he  may  be  the  next  governor. " 

One  of  the  committee  said  to  the  officer  as  they  passed 
into  the  street,  "Well,  we've  given  up  everything  to 
the  road,  to  please  you.  I  hope  you'll  remember  it  when 
you're  governor  and  we  want  things  done." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Peter,  "for  every  surrender  of 
opinion  you  and  the  railroad  officials  have  made  to-night, 
I  thank  you.  But  you  should  have  compromised  twelve 
hours  sooner." 

"So  as  you  should  not  have  had  to  make  yourself  un- 
popular?"   asked   Kurfeldt.       "You   needn't   be   afraid. 
You've  done  your  best  for  us.     Now  we'll  do  our  best  fon 
you." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  myself.  I  was  thinking  of  the 
dead,"  said  Peter. 

Peter  sent  a  despatch  to  headquarters  and  went  the 
rounds  to  see  if  all  was  as  it  should  be.  Then  spreading 
his  blanket  in  the  passenger  waiting-room,  he  fell  asleep, 
not  with  a  very  happy  look  on  the  grave  face. 

But  the  morning-papers  announced  that  the  strike  was 
ended  by  a  compromise,  and  New  York  and  the  country 
breathed  easier. 

Peter  did  not  get  much  sleep,  for  he  was  barely  dream- 
ing of — of  a  striker,  who  had  destroyed  his  peace,  by 
striking  him  in  the  heart  with  a  pair  of  slate-colored  eyes- 


362  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

— when  a  hand  was  placed  on  his  shoulder.  He  was  on 
his  feet  before  the  disturber  of  his  dreams  could  speak 

"A  despatch  from  headquarters,"  said  the  man. 

Peter  broke  it  open.     It  said  : 

"Take  possession  of  Printing-house  Square,  and  await 
further  orders. "  In  ten  minutes  the  regiment  was  tramp- 
ing through  the  dark,  silent  streets,  on  its  way  to  the  new 
position. 

"I  think  we  deserve  a  rest,"  growled  the  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  to  Peter. 

"We  shan't  get  it,"  said  Peter.  "If there's  anything 
hard  to  be  done,  we  shall  have  it."  Then  he  smiled. 
"You'll  have  to  have  an  understanding  hereafter,  before 
you  make  a  man  colonel,  that  he  shan't  run  for  office." 

"What  are  we  in  for  now?  " 

"  I  can't  say.  To-day's  the  time  of  the  parade  and  meet- 
ing in  City  Hall  Park." 

It  was  sunrise  when  the  regiment  drew  up  in  the  square 
facing  the  Park.  It  was  a  lovely  morning,  with  no  sign 
of  trouble  in  sight,  unless  the  bulletin  boards  of  the  news- 
papers, which  were  chiefly  devoted  to  the  doings  about 
the  Central  Station,  could  be  taken  as  such.  Except  for 
this,  the  regiment  was  the  only  indication  that  the  uni- 
versal peace  had  not  come,  and  even  this  looked  peaceful, 
.as  soon  as  it  had  settled  down  to  hot  coffee,  bread  and 
raw  ham. 

In  the  park,  however,  was  a  suggestive  sight.  For  not 
merely  were  all  the  benches  filled  with  sleeping  men,  but 
the  steps  of  the  City  Hall,  the  grass,  and  even  the  hard 
asphalt  pavement  were  besprinkled  with  a  dirty,  ragged, 
hungry-looking  lot  of  men,  unlike  those  usually  seen  in 
the  streets  of  New  York.  When  the  regiment  marched 
into  the  square,  a  few  of  the  stragglers  rose  from  their 
recumbent  attitudes,  and  looked  at  it,  without  much  love 
in  their  faces.  As  the  regiment  breakfasted,  more  and 
more  rose  from  their  hard  beds  to  their  harder  lives.  They 
moved  about  restlessly,  as  if  waiting  for  something.  Some 
gathered  in  little  groups  and  listened  to  men  who  talked 
and  shrieked  far  louder  than  was  necessary  in  order  that 
their  listeners  should  hear.  Some  came  to  the  edge  of 
the  street  and  cursed  and  vituperated  the  breakfasting 
regiment.  Some  sat  on  the  ground  and  ate  food  which 
they  produced  from  their  pockets  or  from  paper  bundles, 


CUT  BONO?  363 

It  was  not  very  tempting-looking  food.  Yet  there  were 
men  in  the  crowd  who  looked  longingly  at  it,  and  a  few 
scuffles  occurred  in  attempts  to  get  some.  That  crowd 
represented  the  slag  and  scum  of  the  boiling  pot  of  nine- 
teenth-century conditions.  And  as  the  flotsam  on  a  river 
always  centres  at  its  eddies,  so  these  had  drifted,  from  the 
country,  and  from  the  slums,  to  the  centre  of  the  whirl- 
pool of  American  life.  Here  they  were  waiting.  Waiting 
for  what  ?  The  future  only  would  show.  But  each 
moment  is  a  future,  till  it  becomes  the  present. 

While  the  regiment  still  breakfasted  it  became  conscious 
of  a  monotonous  sound,  growing  steadily  in  volume. 
Then  came  the  tap  of  the  drum,  and  the  regiment  rose 
from  a  half-eaten  meal,  and  lined  up  as  if  on  parade. 
Several  of  the  members  remarked  crossly  :  "Why  couldn't 
they  wait  ten  minutes  ?  " 

The  next  moment  the  head  of  another  regiment  swung 
from  Chambers  Street  into  the  square.  It  was  greeted 
by  hisses  and  groans  from  the  denizens  of  the  park,  but 
this  lack  of  politeness  was  more  than  atoned  for,  by  the 
order  :  "  Present  arms,"  passed  down  the  immovable  line 
awaiting  it.  After  a  return  salute  the  commanding  officers 
advanced  and  once  more  saluted. 

"In  obedience  to  orders  from  headquarters,  I  have  the 
honor  to  report  my  regiment  to  you,  Colonel  Stirling,  and 
await  your  orders,"  said  the  officer  of  the  "visiting" 
regiment,  evidently  trying  not  to  laugh. 

"Let  your  men  break  ranks,  and  breakfast,  Major 
Rivington,"  said  Peter.  In  two  minutes  dandy  and  mick 
were  mingled,  exchanging  experiences,  as  they  sliced 
meat  off  the,  same  ham-bones  and  emptied  the  same 
cracker  boxes.  What  was  more,  each  was  respecting  and 
liking  the  other.  One  touch  of  danger  is  almost  as  effica- 
cious as  one  touch  of  nature.  It  is  not  the  differences  in 
men  which  make  ill-feeling  or  want  of  sympathy,  it  is  dif- 
ferences in  conditions. 

In  the  mean  time,  Peter,  Ray  and  Ogden  had  come 
together  over  their  grub,  much  as  if  it  was  a  legal  rather 
than  an  illegal  trouble  to  be  dealt  with. 

"Where  were  you  ?  "  asked  Peter. 

"At  the  Sixty-third  Street  terminals,"  said  Ray.  "We 
didn't  have  any  fun  at  all.  As  quiet  as  a  cow.  You  always 
were  lucky  !  Excuse  me,  Peter,  I  oughtn't  to  have  said  it," 


364  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

Ray  continued,  seeing  Peter's  face.      "  It's  this  wretched 
American  trick  of  joking  at  everything." 

Ogden,  to  change  the  subject,  asked  :   "  Did  you  really 
say  *  damn  '  ?  " 


"But  I  thought  you  disapproved  of  cuss  words." 

"I  do.  But  the  crowd  wouldn't  believe  that  I  was 
honest  in  my  intention  to  protect  the  substitutes.  They 
thought  I  was  too  much  of  a  politician  to  dare  to  do  it. 
So  I  swore,  thinking  they  would  understand  that  as  they 
would  not  anything  else.  I  hoped  it  might  save  actual 
firing.  But  (hey  became  so  enraged  that  they  didn't  care 
if  we  did  shoot." 

Just  then  one  of  the  crowd  shrieked,  "  Down  with  the 
blood-suckers.  On  to  freedom.  Freedom  of  life,  of 
property,  of  food,  of  water,  of  air,  of  land.  Destroy  the 
money  power  !  " 

"If  we  ever  get  to  the  freedom  he  wants,"  said  Ray, 
"  we'll  utilize  that  chap  for  supplying  free  gas." 

"Splendid  raw  material  for  free  soap,"  said  Ogden. 

"  He's  not  the  only  one,"  said  Ray.  "  I  haven't  had  a 
wash  in  nine  hours,  and  salt  meats  are  beginning  to  pall." 

"There  are  plenty  of  fellows  out  there  will  eat  it  for 
you,  Ray,"  said  Peter,  "and  plenty  more  who  have  not 
washed  in  weeks." 

"It's  their  own  fault." 

"Yes.  But  if  you  burn  or  cut  yourself,  through  igno- 
rance, that  doesn't  make  the  pain  any  the  less." 

"They  don't  look  like  a  crowd  which  could  give  us 
trouble." 

"They  are  just  the  kind  who  can.  They  are  men  lifted 
off  their  common  sense,  and  therefore  capable  of  thinking 
they  can  do  anything,  just  as  John  Brown  expected  to 
conquer  Virginia  with  forty  men." 

"  But  there's  no  danger  of  their  getting  the  upper  hand.  " 

"  No.  Yet  I  wish  we  had  orders  to  clear  the  Park  now, 
while  there  are  comparatively  few  here,  or  else  to  go  back 
to  our  armories,  and  let  them  have  their  meeting  in  peace. 
Our  being  here  will  only  excite  them.  " 

"  Hear  that,"  said  Ray,  as  the  crowd  gave  a  great  roar 
as  another  regiment  came  up  Park  Place,  across  the  Park 
and  spread  out  so  as  to  cover  Broadway. 

As   they   sat,  New    Yorkers  began   to  rise  and  begin 


CUI  BONO?  36$ 

business.  But  many  seemed  to  have  none,  and  drifted 
into  the  Park.  Some  idlers  came  from  curiosity,  but  most 
seemed  to  have  some  purpose  other  than  the  mere  spec- 
tacle. From  six  till  ten  they  silted  in  imperceptibly  from 
twenty  streets.  As  fast  as  the  crowd  grew,  regiments  ap- 
peared, and  taking  up  positions,  lay  at  ease.  There  was 
something  terrible  about  the  quiet  way  in  which  both 
crowd  and  troops  increased.  The  mercury  was  not  high, 
but  it  promised  to  be  a  hot  morning  in  New  York.  All 
the  car  lines  took  off  their  cars.  Trucks  disappeared  from 
the  streets.  The  exchanges  and  the  banks  closed  their 
doors,  and  many  hundred  shops  followed  their  example. 
New  York  almost  came  to  a  standstill  as  order  and  anar- 
chy faced  each  other. 

While  these  antagonistic  forces  still  gathered,  a  man 
who  had  been  yelling  to  his  own  coterie  of  listeners  in 
that  dense  crowd,  extracted  himself,  and  limped  towards 
Peter. 

"Mr.  Stirling,"  he  shouted,  "come  out  from  those 
murderers.  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

Peter  went  forward.      "What  is  it,  Podds  ?  "  he  asked 

Podds  dropped  his  voice.  "  We're  out  for  blood  to-day. 
But  I  don't  want  yours,  if  you  do  murder  my  fellow-meno 
Get  away  from  here,  quick.  Hide  yourself  before  the 
people  rise  in  their  might. " 

Peter  smiled  sadly.  "How  are  Mrs.  Podds  and  the 
children  ?  "  he  asked  kindly. 

"What  is  a  family  at  such  a  moment?  "  shrieked  Podds. 
"  The  world  is  my  family.  I  love  the  whole  world,  and 
I'm  going  to  revolutionize  it.  I'm  going  to  give  every 
man  his  rights.  The  gutters  shall  reek  with  blood,  and 
every  plutocrat's  castle  shall  be  levelled  to  the  soil.  But 
I'll  spare  you,  for  though  you  are  one  of  the  classes,  it's 
your  ignorance,  not  your  disposition,  that  makes  you  onec 
Get  away  from  here.  Get  away  before  it's  too  late. " 

Just  then  the  sound  of  a  horse's  feet  was  heard,  and  a 
Staff  officer  came  cantering  from  a  side  street  into  the 
square.  He  saluted  Peter  and  said,  "Colonel  Stirling, 
the  governor  has  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  the 
meeting  and  parade.  General  Canfield  orders  you  to  clear 
the  Park,  by  pushing  the  mob  towards  Broadway.  The 
regiments  have  been  drawn  in  so  as  to  leave  a  free  pas- 
sage down  the  side  streets. " 


366  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Don't  try  to  move  us  a  foot/'  screamed  Podds,  "or 
there'll  be  blood.  We  claim  the  right  of  free  meeting  and 
free  speech. " 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  two  regiments  formed,  stiffened, 
fixed  bayonets,  and  moved  forward,  as  if  they  were 
machines  rather  than  two  thousand  men. 

"Brethren,"  yelled  Podds,  "  the  foot  of  the  tyrant  is  on 
us.  Rise.  Rise  in  your  might. "  Then  Podds  turned  to 
find  the  rigid  line  of  bayonets  close  upon  him.  He  gave 
a  spring,  and  grappled  with  Peter,  throwing  his  arms  about 
Peter's  neck.  Peter  caught  him  by  the  throat  with  his 
free  arm. 

"Don't  push  me  off,"  shrieked  Podds  in  his  ear,  "it's 
coming,"  and  he  clung  with  desperate  energy  to  Peter. 

Peter  gave  a  twist  with  his  arm.  He  felt  the  tight  clasp 
relax,  and  the  whole  figure  shudder.  He  braced  his  arm 
for  a  push,  intending  to  send  Podds  flying  across  the 
street. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  flash,  as  of  lightning.  Then 
a  crash.  Then  the  earth  shook,  cobble-stones,  railroad 
tracks,  anarchists,  and  soldiers,  rose  in  the  air,  leaving  a 
great  chasm  in  crowd  and  street.  Into  that  chasm  a  mo- 
ment later,  stones,  rails,  anarchists,  and  soldiers  fell,  leav- 
ing nothing  but  a  thick  cloud  of  overhanging  dust. 
Underneath  that  great  dun  pall  lay  soldier  and  anarchist, 
side  by  side,  at  last  at  peace.  The  one  died  for  his  duty, 
the  other  died  for  his  idea.  The  world  was  none  the 
better,  but  went  on  unchanged. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 
HAPPINESS. 

THE  evening  on  which  Peter  had  left  Grey-Court,  Leo- 
nore  had  been  moved  "for  sundry  reasons"  to  go  to  her 
piano  and  sing  an  English  ballad  entitled  "  Happiness." 
She  had  sung  it  several  times,  and  with  gusto. 

The  next  morning  she  read  the  political  part  of  the  pa- 
pers. "I  don't  see  anything  to  have  taken  him  back," 
she  said,  "but  I  am  really  glad,  for  he  was  getting  hard 
to  manage.  I  couldn't  send  him  away,  but  now  I  hope 


HAPPINESS.  36? 

he'll  stay  there. "  Then  Leonore  fluttered  all  day,  in  the 
true  Newport  style,  with  no  apparent  thought  of  her 
"friend." 

But  something  at  a  dinner  that  evening  interested  her. 

"I'm  ashamed,"  said  the  hostess,  "of  my  shortage  of 
men.  Marlow  was  summoned  back  to  New  York  last 
night,  by  business,  quite  unexpectedly,  and  Mr.  Dupont 
telegraphed  me  this  afternoon  that  he  was  detained  there." 

"  It's  curious,"  said  Dorothy.  "Mr.  Rivington  and  my 
brother  came  on  Tuesday  expecting  to  stay  for  a  week, 
but  they  had  special  delivery  letters  yesterday,  and  both 
started  for  New  York.  They  would  not  tell  me  what  it 
was. " 

"Mr.  Stirling  received  a  special  delivery,  too,"  said  Leo- 
nore, "and  started  at  once.  And  he  wouldn't  tell." 

"How  extraordinary  !  "  said  the  hostess.  "There must 
be  something  very  good  at  the  roof-gardens. " 

"It  has  something  to  do  with  headwears,"  said  Leo- 
nore, not  hiding  her  light  under  a  bushel. 

"  Headwear?  "  said  a  man. 

"Yes,"  said  Leonore.  "I  only  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
heading,  but  I  saw  "  Headwears  N.  G.  S.  N.  Y." 

A  sudden  silence  fell,  no  one  laughing  at  the  mistake. 

"What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"We  are  wondering  what  will  happen,"  said  the  host, 
"  if  men  go  in  for  headweartoo." 

"They  do  that  already,"  said  a  man,  "but  unlike 
women,  they  do  it  on  the  inside,  not  the  outside  of  the 
head." 

But  nobody  laughed,  and  the  dinner  seemed  to  drag 
from  that  moment. 

Leonore  and  Dorothy  had  come  together,  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  in  their  carriage,  Leonore  said,  "What  a  dull 
dinner  it  was  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Leonore,"  cried  Dorothy,  "  don't  talk  about  din- 
ners. I've  kept  up  till  now,  bu "  and  Dorothy's  sen- 
tence melted  into  a  sob. 

"  Is  it  home,  Mrs.  Rivington  ?  "  asked  the  tiger,  sublimely 
unconscious,  as  a  good  servant  should  be,  of  this  dia- 
logue, and  of  his  mistress's  tears. 

"No,  Portman,  the  Club,"  sobbed  Dorothy. 

"  Dorothy,"  begged  Leonore,  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

44 Don't  you  understand?  "  sobbed  Dorothy.     "All  this 


368  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

fearful  anarchist  talk  and  discontent  ?  And  my  poor,  poor 
darling  !  Oh,  don't  talk  to  me. "  Dorothy  became  inar- 
ticulate once  more. 

"  How  foolish  married  women  are  !  "  thought  Leonore, 
even  while  putting  her  arm  around  Dorothy,  and  trying 
blindly  to  comfort  her. 

"Is  it  a  message,  Mrs.  Rivington  ? "  asked  the  man, 
opening  the  carriage-door. 

"  Ask  for  Mr.  Melton,  or  Mr.  Duer,  and  say  Mrs.  Riving- 
ton wishes  to  see  one  of  them."  Dorothy  dried  her  eyes, 
and  braced  up.  Before  Leonore  had  time  to  demand  an 
explanation,  Peter's  gentlemanly  scoundrel  was  at  the 
door. 

"What  is  it,  Mrs.  Rivington  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Duer,  is  there  any  bad  news  from  New  York?  " 

"Yes.  A  great  strike  on  the  Central  is  on,  and  the 
troops  have  been  palled  in  to  keep  order. " 

<v  Is  that  all  the  news  ?  "  asked  Dorothy. 

"Yes." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dorothy.      "  Home,  Portman." 

The  two  women  were  absolutely  silent  during  the 
drive.  But  they  kissed  each  other  in  parting,  not  with  the 
peck  which  women  so  often  give  each  other,  but  with 
a  true  kiss.  And  when  Leonore,  in  crossing  the  porch, 
encountered  the  mastiff  which  Peter  had  given  her,  she 
stopped  and  kissed  him  too,  very  tenderly.  What  is  more, 
she  brought  him  inside,  which  was  against  the  rules,  and 
put  him  down  before  the  fire.  Then  she  told  the  foot- 
man to  bring  her  the  evening-papers,  and  sitting  down  on 
the  nig  by  Betise,  proceeded  to  search  them,  not  now  for 
the  political  outlook,  but  for  the  labor  troubles.  Leonore 
suddenly  awoke  to  the  fact  that  there  were  such  things  as 
commercial  depressions  and  unemployed.  She  read  it  all 
with  the  utmost  care.  She  read  the  outpourings  of  the 
Anarchists,  in  a  combination  of  indignation,  amazement 
and  fear.  "  I  never  dreamed  there  could  be  such  fearful 
wretches  ! "  she  said.  There  was  one  man — a  fellow 
named  Podds — whom  the  paper  reported  as  shrieking  in 
Union  Square  to  a  select  audience  : 

"Rise!  Wipe  from  the  face  of  the  earth  the  money  power!  Kill  I 
Kill !  Only  by  blood  atonement  can  we  lead  the  way  to  better  things. 
To  a  universal  brotherhood  of  love.  Down  with  rich  men!  Down 
with  their  paid  hirelings,  the  troops  !  Blow  them  in  pieces  1 " 


HAPPINESS.  36f 

"Oh!"  cried  Leonore  shuddering.  "It's  fearful.  I 
wish  some  one  would  blow  you  in  pieces  !  "  Thereby  was 
she  proving  herself  not  unlike  Podds.  All  humanity  have 
something  of  the  Anarchist  in  them.  Then  Leonore 
turned  to  the  mastiff  and  told  him  some  things.  Of  how 
bad  the  strikers  were,  and  how  terrible  were  the  Anarch* 
ists.  "Yes,  dear,"  she  said,  "I  wish  we  had  them  here, 
and  then  you  could  trea"  them  as  they  deserve,  wouldn't 
you,  Betise  ?  I'm  so  glad  he  has  my  luck-piece  !  " 

A  moment  later  her  father  and  another  man  came  into 
the  hall  from  the  street,  compelling  Leonore  to  assume  a 
more  proper  attitude. 

' '  Hello,  Dot !  "  said  Watts.  "  Still  up  ?  Vaughari  and  I 
are  going  to  have  a  game  of  billiards.  Won't  you  score 
for  us  ?  " 

' '  Yes,"  said  Leonore. 

"  Bad  news  from  New  York,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Vaughan, 
nonchalantly,  as  he  stood  back  after  his  first  play. 

Leonore  saw  her  father  make  a  grimace  at  Vaughan, 
which  Vaughan  did  not  see.  She  said,  "  What  ?  " 

"  I  missed,"  said  Watts.     "  Your  turn,  Will. " 

"Tell  me  the  news  before  you  shoot? "  said  Leonore. 

"The  collision  of  the  strikers  and  the  troops." 

"Was  any  one  hurt?"  asked  Leonore,  calmly  scoring 
two  to  her  father's  credit. 

"Yes.     Eleven  soldiers  and  twenty-two  strikers." 

"What  regiment  was  it  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"Colonel  Stirling's,"  said  Vaughan,  making  a  brilliant 
masse.  "  Fortunately  it's  a  Mick  regiment,  so  we  needn't 
worry  over  who  was  killed." 

Leonore  thought  to  herself :  "  You  are  as  bad  every  bit 
as  Podds  ! "  Aloud  she  said,  "  Did  it  say  who  were 
killed  ? " 

"No.     The  dispatch  only  said  fourteen  dead/' 

"That  was  a  beautiful  shot,"  said  Leonore.  "You 
ought  to  run  the  game  out  with  that  position.  I  think, 
papa,  that  I'll  go  to  bed.  I  find  I'm  a  little  tired.  Good- 
night, Mr.  Vaughan."  Leonore  went  upstairs,  slowly, 
deep  in  thought.  She  did  not  ring  for  her  maid.  On  the 
contrary  she  lay  down  on  her  bed  in  her  dinner-gown,  to 
its  everlasting  detriment.  "I  know  he  isn't  hurt,"  she 
said,  "because  I  should  feel  it.  But  I  wish  the  telegram 
had  said. "  She  hardly  believed  herself,  apparently,  for 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

she  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow,  and  began  to  sob 
quietly.  "If  I  only  had  said  good-bye,"  she  moaned. 

Early  the  next  morning  Watts  found  Leonore  in  the 
hall. 

"How  pale  my  Dot  is  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  didn't  sleep  well,"  said  Leonore. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  ride  with  me?  " 

"No.     I  don't  feel  like  it  this  morning,"  said  Leonore. 

As  Watts  left  the  hall,  a  servant  entered  it. 

"I  had  to  wait,  Miss  D'Alloi,"  he  said.  "  No  papers  are 
for  sale  till  eight  o'clock. " 

Leonore  took  the  newspaper  silently  and  went  to  the 
library.  Then  she  opened  it  and  looked  at  the  first  column. 
She  read  it  hurriedly. 

"I  knew  he  wasn't  hurt,"  she  said,  "because  I  would 
have  felt  it,  and  because  he  had  my  luck  piece."  Then 
she  stepped  out  of  one  of  the  windows,  called  Betise  to  her, 
and  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck,  kissed  him. 

When  the  New  York  papers  came  things  were  even 
better,  for  they  recorded  the  end  of  the  strike.  Leonore 
even  laughed  over  that  big,  big  D.  "I  can't  imagine 
him  getting  so  angry,"  she  said.  "He  must  have  a  tem- 
per, after  all."  She  sang  a  little,  as  she  fixed  the  flowers 
in  the  vases,  and  one  of  the  songs  was  "Happiness." 
Nor  did  she  snub  a  man  who  hinted  at  afternoon  tea,  as 
she  had  a  poor  unfortunate  who  suggested  tennis  earlier 
in  the  day. 

While  they  were  sipping  their  tea,  however,  Watts  came 
in  from  the  club. 

"  Helen,"  he  said,  going  to  the  bay  window  farthest 
from  the  tea-table,  "come  here.  I  want  to  say  some- 
thing." 

They  whispered  for  a  moment,  and  then  Mrs.  D'Alloi 
came  back  to  her  tea. 

"Won't  you  have  a  cup,  papa?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"Not  to-day,  dear/' said  Watts,  with  an  unusual  ten- 
derness in  his  voice. 

Leonore  was  raising  a  spoon  to  her  mouth,  but  suddenly 
her  hand  trembled  a  little.  After  a  glance  at  her  father  and 
mother,  she  pushed  her  tea-cup  into  the  centre  of  the 
table  as  if  she  had  finished  it,  though  it  had  just  been  poured. 
Then  she  turned  and  began  to  talk  and  laugh  with  the 
caller. 


HAPPINESS.  371 

But  the  moment  the  visitor  was  out  of  the  room,  Leo-» 
nore  said : 

"What  is  it, papa?" 

Watts  was  standing  by  the  fire.  He  hesitated.  Then 
he  groaned.  Then  he  went  to  the  door.  "Ask  your 
mother,"  he  said,  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

"  Mamma  ?  "  said  Leonore. 

"Don't  excite  yourself,  dear,"  said  her  mother.  "I'll 
tell  you  to-morrow." 

Leonore  was  on  her  feet.  "No,"  she  said  huskily, 
"tell  me  now." 

"Wait  till  we've  had  dinner." 

"Mamma,"  cried  Leonore,  appealingly,  "don't  you  see 
that — that — that  I  suffer  more  by  not  knowing  it  ?  Tell 
me." 

"Oh,  Leonore,"  cried  her  mother,  "don't  look  that 
way.  I'll  tell  you  ;  but  don't  look  that  way  I  " 

"What?" 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  put  her  arms  about  Leonore.  "The  Anar- 
chists have  exploded  a  bomb." 

"Yes?  "said  Leonore. 

"And  it  killed  a  great  many  of  the  soldiers." 

«Not ?" 

"Yes." 

"Thank  you,  mamma,"  said  Leonore.  She  unclasped 
her  mother's  arms,  and  went  towards  the  door. 

' '  Leonore,"  cried  her  mother,  ' '  stay  here  with  me,  dear. " 

"I'd  rather  be  alone," said  Leonore,  quietly.  She  went 
upstairs  to  her  room  and  sank  down  by  an  ottoman  which 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  She  sat  silent  and 
motionless,  for  over  an  hour,  looking  straight  before  her 
at  nothing,  as  Peter  had  so  often  done.  Is  it  harder  to  lose 
out  of  life  the  man  or  woman  whom  one  loves,  or  to  see 
him  or  her  happy  in  the  love  of  another.  Is  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  impossible  less  or  greater  than  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  unattainable  ? 

Finally  Leonore  rose,  and  touched  her  bell.  When  her 
maid  came  she  said,  "  Get  me  my  travelling  dress."  Ten 
minutes  later  she  came  into  the  library,  saying  to  Watts. 

"  Papa,  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  New  York,  by  the  first 
train." 

"Are  you  crazy,  my  darling  ?"  cried  Watts.  "With 
riots  and  Anarchists  all  over  the  city." 


J7* 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


"I  must  go  to  New  York,"  said  Leonore.  "If  you 
won't  take  me,  I'll  go  with  madame." 

"  Not  for  a  moment "  began  Watts. 

"  Papa,"  cried  Leonore,  "  don't  you  see  it's  killing  me  ? 
I  can't  bear  it "  and  Leonore  stopped. 

"Yes,  Watts,  we  must,"  said  Mrs.  D'Alloi. 

Two  hours  later  they  were  all  three  rolling  towards  New 
York.  It  was  a  five  hours'  ride,  but  Leonore  sat  the  whole 
distance  without  speaking,  or  showing  any  consciousness 
of  her  surroundings.  For  every  turn  of  those  wheels 
seemed  to  fall  into  a  rhythmic  repetition  of  :  "  If  1  ha'd 
only  said  *  good-bye. '  " 

The  train  was  late  in  arriving,  and  Watts  tried  to  induce 
Leonore  to  go  to  a  hotel  for  the  night.  She  only  said 
"No.  Take  me  to  him,"  but  it  was  in  a  voice  which 
Watts  could  not  disregard.  So  after  a  few  questions  at 
the  terminal,  which  produced  no  satisfactory  informa- 
tion, Watts  told  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  City  Hall 
Park. 

They  did  not  reach  it,  however,  for  at  the  corner  of 
Centre  Street  and  Chambers,  there  came  a  cry  of  "  halt," 
and  the  cab  had  to  stop. 

"You  can't  pass  this  line,"  said  the  sentry.  "You 
must  go  round  by  Broadway. " 

"Why?"  asked  Watts. 

"  The  street  is  impassable." 

Watts  got  out,  and  held  a  whispered  dialogue  with  the 
sentry.  This  resulted  in  the  summoning  of  the  officer  of 
the  watch.  In  the  mean  time  Leonore  descended  and 
joined  them.  Watts  turned  and  said  to  her  :  "  The  sentry 
says  he's  here. " 

Presently  an  officer  came  up. 

"An*  what  do  the  likes  av  yez  want  at  this  time  av 
night  ? "  he  inquired  crossly.  "  Go  away  wid  yez. " 

"Oh,  Captain  Moriarty,"  said  Leonore,  "won't  you 
let  me  see  him ?  I'm  Miss  D'Alloi." 

"Shure,"  said  Dennis,  "yez  oughtn't  to  be  afther  dis- 
turbin*  him.  It's  two  nights  he's  had  no  sleep. " 

Leonore  suddenly  put  her  hand  on  Dennis's  arm. 
"He's  not  killed?"  she  whispered,  as  if  she  could  not 
breathe,  and  the  figure  swayed  a  little. 

"Divil  a  bit!  They  got  it  wrong  entirely.  It  wag 
that  dirty  spalpeen  av  a  Podds. " 


HAPPINESS.  373 

"Are  you  sure  ?  "  said Leonore,  pleadingly.  "You  are 
not  deceiving  me  ?  " 

"Begobs,"  said  Dennis,  "  do  yez  think  Oi  could  stand 
here  wid  a  dry  eye  if  he  was  dead  ? " 

Leonore  put  her  head  on  Dennis's  shoulder,  and  began 
to  sob  softly.  For  a  moment  Dennis  looked  aghast  at 
the  results  of  his  speech,  but  suddenly  his  face  changed, 
"Shure,"  he  whispered,  "we  all  love  him  just  like  that, 
an  that's  why  the  Blessed  Virgin  saved  him  for  us. " 

Then  Leonore,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  said,  "  I  felt  it," 
in  the  most  joyful  of  voices.  A  voice  that  had  a  whole 
Te  Deum  in  it. 

"Won't  you  let  me  see  him?  "  she  begged.  "  I  won't 
wake  him,  I  promise  you." 

"That  yez  shall,"  said  Dennis.  "Will  yez  take  my 
arm?"  The  four  passed  within  the  lines.  "  Step  care- 
ful," he  continued.  "  There's  pavin'  stones,  and  rails,  and 
plate-glass  everywheres.  It  looks  like  there'd  been  a 
primary  itself. " 

All  thought  that  was  the  best  of  jokes  and  laughed. 
They  passed  round  a  great  chasm  in  the  street  and  side- 
walk. Then  they  came  to  long  rows  of  bodies  stretched 
on  the  grass,  or  rather  what  was  left  of  the  grass,  in  the 
Park.  Leonore  shuddered.  "Are  they  all  dead?"  she 
whispered.  "Dead!  Shurely  not.  It's  the  regiment 
sleepin',"  she  was  told.  They  passed  between  these  rows 
fora  little  distance.  "This  is  him,"  said  Dennis,  "sleep- 
in'  like  a  babby. "  Dennis  turned  his  back  and  began  to 
describe  the  explosion  to  Mrs.  D'Alloi  and  Watts. 

There,  half  covered  with  a  blanket,  wrapped  in  a  regu- 
lation great  coat,  his  head  pillowed  on  a  roll  of  news- 
papers, lay  Peter.  Leonore  knelt  down  on  the  ground 
beside  him,  regardless  of  the  proprieties  or  the  damp.  She 
listened  to  hear  if  he  was  breathing,  and  when  she  found 
that  he  actually  was,  her  face  had  on  it  a  little  thanks- 
giving proclamation  of  its  own.  Then  with  the  prettiest 
of  motherly  manners,  she  softly  pulled  the  blanket  up  and 
tucked  it  in  about  his  arms.  Then  she  looked  to  see  if 
there  was  not  something  else  to  do.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing. So  she  made  more.  "The  poor  dear  oughtn't  to 
Bleep  without  something  on  his  head.  He'll  take  cold." 
She  took  her  handkerchief  and  tried  to  fix  it  so  that  it 
should  protect  Peter's  head.  She  tried  four  different  ways, 


374 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


any  one  of  which  would  have  served  ;  but  each  time  she 
thought  of  a  better  way,  and  had  to  try  once  more.  She 
probably  would  have  thought  of  a  fifth,  if  Peter  had  not 
suddenly  opened  his  eyes. 

"Oh!"  said  Leonore,  "what  a  shame?  I've  waked 
you  up.  And  just  as  I  had  fixed  it  right." 

Peter  studied  the  situation  calmly,  without  moving  a 
muscle.  He  looked  at  the  kneeling  figure  for  some  time. 
Then  he  looked  up  at  the  arc  light  a  little  distance  away. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  City  Hall  clock.  Then  his  eyes 
came  back  to  Leonore.  "Peter,"  he  said  finally,  "this 
is  getting  to  be  a  monomania.  You  must  stop  it." 

"  What?  "  said  Leonore,  laughing  at  his  manner  as  if  it 
was  intended  as  a  joke. 

Peter  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  Leonore's  dress. 
Then  he  rose  quickly  to  his  feet.  "  What  is  the  matter? " 
he  asked. 

"Hello,"  cried  Watts.  "Have  you  come  to?  Well. 
Here  we  are,  you  see.  All  the  way  from  Newport  to  see 
you  in  fragments,  only  to  be  disappointed.  Shake  !  " 

Peter  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  But  after  he  had 
shaken  hands,  he  said,  "  It's  very  good  of  you  to  have 
thought  of  me. " 

"Oh,"  explained  Leonore  promptly,  "I'm  always 
anxious  about  my  friends.  Mamma  will  tell  you  I  am. " 

Peter  turned  to  Leonore,  who  had  retired  behind  her 
mother.  "  Such  friends  are  worth  having/'  he  said,  with 
a  strong  emphasis  on  "friends." 

Then  Leonore  came  out  from  behind  her  mother. 
"How  nice  he's  stupid,"  she  thought.  "He  is  Peter 
Simple,  after  all." 

"Well,"  said  Watts,  "your  friends  are  nearly  dying 
with  hunger  and  want  of  sleep,  so  the  best  thing  we  can 
do,  since  we  needn't  hunt  for  you  in  scraps,  is  to  go  to 
the  nearest  hotel.  Where  is  that  ? " 

"You'll  have  to  go  uptown,"  said  Peter.  "Nothing 
down  here  is  open  at  this  time. " 

"I'm  not  sleepy,"  said  Leonore,  "but  I  am  so  hun- 
gry !  " 

"  Serves  you  right  for  eating  no  din "  Watts  started 

to  say,  but  Leonore  interjected,  in  an  unusually  loud 


voice.     "Can't  you  get  us  something ? " 
"  Nothing  that  will  do  for  you,  I'm  afraid," 


said  Peter. 


HAPPINESS.  371 

"I  had  Dennett  send  up  one  of  his  coffee-boilers  so  that 
the  men  should  have  hot  coffee  through  the  night,  and 
there's  a  sausage-roll  man  close  to  him  who's  doing  a  big 
business.  But  they'll  hardly  serve  your  purpose." 

"  The  very  thing,"  cried  Watts.      "  What  a  lark  !  " 

"I  can  eat  anything,"  said  Leonore. 

So  they  went  over  to  the  stands.  Peter's  blanket  was 
spread  on  the  sidewalk,  and  three  Newport  swells,  and 
the  Democratic  nominee  for  governor  sat  upon  it,  with 
their  feet  in  the  gutter,  and  drank  half-bean  coffee  and  ate 
hot  sausage  rolls,  made  all  the  hotter  by  the  undue  amount 
of  mustard  which  the  cook  would  put  in.  What  is  worse, 
they  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  if  it  was  the  finest  of  dinners. 
Would  not  society  have  been  scandalized  had  it  known 
of  their  doings  ? 

How  true  it  is  that  happiness  is  in  a  mood  rather  than 
in  a  moment.  How  eagerly  we  prepare  for  and  pursue 
the  fickle  sprite,  only  to  find  our  preparations  and  chase 
giving  nothing  but  dullness,  fatigue,  and  ennui.  But  then 
how  often  without  exertion  or  warning,  the  sprite  is  upon 
us,  and  tinges  the  whole  atmosphere.  So  it  was  at  this 
moment,  with  two  of  the  four.  The  coffee  might  have 
been  all  beans,  and  yet  it  would  have  been  better  than 
the  best  served  in  Viennese  cafe's.  The  rolls  might  have 
had  even  a  more  weepy  amount  of  mustard,  and  yet  the 
burning  and  the  tears  would  only  have  been  the  more  of 
a  joke.  The  sun  came  up,  as  they  ate,  talked  and  laughed, 
touching  everything  about  them  with  gold,  but  it  might 
have  poured  torrents,  and  the  two  would  have  been  as 
happy. 

For  Leonore  was  singing  to  herself:  ''He  isn't  dead. 
He  isn't  dead." 

And  Peter  was  thinking  :  "She  loves  me.  She  must 
love  me." 


376  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING* 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 
GIFTS. 

AFTER  the  rolls  and  coffee  had  been  finished,  Peter  walked 
with  his  friends  to  their  cab.  It  had  all  been  arranged 
that  they  were  to  go  to  Peter's  quarters,  and  get  some 
sleep.  These  were  less  than  eight  blocks  away,  but  the 
parting  was  very  terrific  !  However,  it  had  to  be  done, 
and  so  it  was  gone  through  with.  Hard  as  it  was,  Peter 
had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  say,  through  the  carriage 
window. 

"You  had  better  take  my  room,  Miss  D'Alloi,  for  the 
spare  room  is  the  largest.  I  give  you  the  absolute  free- 
dom of  it,  minus  the  gold-box.  Use  anything  you  find. " 

Then  Peter  went  back  to  the  chaotic  street  and  the  now 
breakfasting  regiment,  feeling  that  strikes,  anarchists,  and 
dynamite  were  only  minor  circumstances  in  life. 

About  noon  Leonore  came  back  to  life,  and  succeeded 
in  making  a  very  bewitching  toilet  despite  the  absence 
of  her  maid.  Whether  she  peeped  into  any  drawers  or 
other  places,  is  left  to  feminine  readers  to  decide.  If  she 
did,  she  certainly  had  ample  authority  from  Peter. 

This  done  she  went  into  the  study,  and,  after  sticking 
her  nose  into  some  of  the  window  flowers,  she  started  to 
go  to  the  bookshelves.  As  she  walked  her  foot  struck 
something  which  rang  with  a  metallic  sound,  as  it  moved 
on  the  wood  floor.  The  next  moment,  a  man  started 
out  of  a  deep  chair. 

"Oh  !  "  was  all  Leonore  said. 

"  I  hope  I  didn't  startle  you.  You  must  have  kicked 
my  sword. " 

"  I — I  didn't  know  you  were  here  !  "  Leonore  eyed  the 
door  leading  to  the  hall,  as  if  she  were  planning  for  a  sud- 
den flight. 

"The  regiment  was  relieved  by  another  from  Albany 
this  morning.  So  I  came  up  here  for  a  little  sleep." 

"  What  a  shame  that  I  should  have  kept  you  out  of 
your  room, "  said  Leonore,  still  eyeing  the  door.  From 


GIFTS.  377 

Leonore's  appearance,  one  would  have  supposed  that  she 
had  purloined  something  of  value  from  his  quarters,  and 
was  meditating  a  sudden  dash  of  escape  with  it. 

"I  don't  look  at  it  in  that  light,"  said  Peter.  "But 
since  you've  finished  with  the  room  for  the  moment,  I'll 
borrow  the  use  temporarily.  Strikers  and  anarchists  care 
so  little  for  soap  and  water  themselves,  that  they  §how 
no  consideration  to  other  people  for  those  articles/'  Peter 
passed  through  the  doorway  towards  which  Leonore  had 
glanced.  Then  Leonore's  anxious  look  left  her,  and  she 
no  longer  looked  at  the  door.  One  would  almost  have 
inferred  that  Leonore  was  afraid  of  Peter,  but  that  is 
absurd,  since  they  were  such  good  friends,  since  Leonore 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Newport  to  see  him,  and  since 
Leonore  had  decided  that  Peter  must  do  as  she  pleased. 

Yet,  curiously  enough,  when  Peter  returned  in  about 
twenty  minutes,  the  same  look  came  into  Leonore's  face. 

"We  shall  have  something  to  eat  in  ten  minutes/" 
Peter  said,  "  for  I  hear  your  father  and  mother  moving." 

Leonore  looked  towards  the  door.  She  did  not  intend 
that  Peter  should  see  her  do  it,  but  he  did. 

"Now  what  shall  we  do  or  talk  about?  "he  said. 
"  You  know  I  am  host  and  mustn't  do  anything  my  guests 
don't  wish." 

Peter  said  this  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way,  but  Leo- 
nore, after  a  look  from  under  her  eyelashes  at  him, 
stopped  thinking  about  the  door.  She  went  over  to  one  of 
the  window-seats. 

"Come  and  sit  hereby  me," she  said,  "and  tell  me 
everything  about  it." 

So  Peter  described  "the  war,  and  what  they  fought 
each  other  for, "as  well  as  he  was  able,  for,  despite  his  in- 
tentions,  his  mind  would  wander  as  those  eyes  looked 
into  his. 

"I  am  glad  that  Podds  was  blown  to  pieces  I  "  said 
Leonore. 

"Don't  say  that." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it's  one  of  those  cases  of  a  man  of  really 
good  intentions,  merely  gone  wrong.  He  was  a  horse- 
car  driver,  who  got  inflammatory  rheumatism  by  the  expo- 
sure, and  was  discharged.  He  suffered  fearful  pain, 
and  saw  his  family  suffer  for  bread.  He  grew  bitter, 


378  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

and  took  up  with  these  wild  theories,  not  having  enough 
original  brain  force,  or  education,  to  see  their  folly. 
He  believed  firmly  in  them.  So  firmly,  that  when  I 
tried  to  reason  him  out  of  them  many  years  ago  he  came 
to  despise  me  and  ordered  me  out  of  his  rooms.  I  had 
once  done  him  a  service,  and  felt  angered  at  what  I 
thought  ungrateful  conduct,  so  I  made  no  attempt  to  keep 
up  the  friendliness.  He  knew  yesterday  that  dynamite 
was  in  the  hands  of  some  of  those  men,  and  tried  to 
warn  me  away.  When  I  refused  to  go,  he  threw  himself 
upon  me,  to  protect  me  from  the  explosion.  Nothing  else 
saved  my  life." 

"Peter,  will  your  regiment  have  to  do  anything 
more?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  The  dynamite  has  caused  a  reac- 
tion, and  has  driven  off  the  soberer  part  of  the.  mob.  The 
pendulum,  when  it  swings  too  far,  always  swings  corre- 
spondingly far  the  other  way.  I  must  stay  here  for  a 
couple  of  days,  but  then  if  I'm  asked,  I'll  go  back  to  New- 
port." 

"  Papa  and  mamma  want  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Leonore, 
glancing  at  the  door  again,  after  an  entire  forgetfulness. 

"Then  I  shall  go,"  said  Peter,  though  longing  to  say 
something  else. 

Leonore  looked  at  him  and  said  in  the  frankest  way  : 
"And  I  want  you  too."  That  was  the  way  she  paid  Peter 
for  his  forbearance. 

Then  they  all  went  up  on  the  roof,  where  in  one  corner 
there  were  pots  of  flowers  about  a  little  table,  over  which 
was  spread  an  awning.  Over  that  table,  too,  Jenifer  had 
spread  himself.  How  good  that  breakfast  was  !  What  a 
glorious  September  day  it  was  !  How  beautiful  the  view 
of  the  city  and  the  bay  was!  It  was  all  so  thoroughly 
satisfactory,  that  the  three  nearly  missed  the  "limited." 
Of  course  Peter  went  to  the  station  with  them,  and,  short 
as  was  the  time,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  for  one  of  the 
party,  "all  the  comic  papers,"  "the  latest  novel,"  a  small 
basket  of  fruit,  and  a  bunch  of  flowers,  not  one  of  which, 
with  the  exception  of  the  latter,  the  real  object  of  these 
attentions  wanted  in  the  least. 

Just  here  it  is  of  value  to  record  an  interesting  scientific 
discovery  of  Leonore's,  because  women  so  rarely  have 
made  them.  It  was,  that  the  distance  from  New  York  to 


379 

Newport  is  very  much  less  than  the  distance  from  New- 
port to  New  York. 

Curiously  enough,  two  days  later,  his  journey  seemed 
to  Peter  the  longest  railroad  ride  he  had  ever  taken. 
"  His  friend"  did  not  meet  him  this  time.  His  friend  felt 
that  her  trip  to  New  York  must  be  offset  before  she  could 
resume  her  proper  self-respect.  "  He  was  very  nice/' she 
had  said,  in  monologue,  "  about  putting  the  trip  down  to 
friendship.  And  he  was  very  nice  that  morning  in  his 
study.  But  I  think  his  very  nicenessis  suspicious,  and  so 
I  must  be  hard  on  him  !  "  A  woman's  reasoning  is  apt 
to  seem  defective,  yet  sometimes  it  solves  problems  not 
otherwise  answerable. 

Leonore  found  her  "hard"  policy  harder  than  she 
thought  for.  She  told  Peter  the  first  evening  that  she  was 
going  to  a  card-party.  "  I  can't  take  you,"  she  said. 

"I  shall  be  all  the  better  for  a  long  night's  sleep,"  said 
Peter,  calmly. 

This  was  bad  enough,  but  the  next  morning,  as  she  was 
arranging  the  flowers, she  remarked  to  some  one  who  stood 
and  watched  her,  "Miss  Winthrop  is  engaged.  How 
foolish  of  a  girl  in  her  first  season  !  Before  she's  had  any 
fun,  to  settle  down  to  dull  married  life." 

She  had  a  rose  in  her  hand,  prepared  to  revive  Peter 
with  it,  in  case  her  speech  was  too  much  for  one  dose,  but 
when  she  glanced  at  him,  he  was  smiling  happily. 

"What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Leonore,  disapprovingly. 

" I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Peter.  "I  wasn't  listening. 
Did  you  say  Miss  Winthrop  was  married  ?  " 

"  What  were  you  smiling  over? "  said  Leonore,  in  the 
same  voice. 

' '  I  was  thinking  of — of . "  Then  Peter  hesitated  and 

laughed. 

*  *  Of  what  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"You  really  mustn't  ask  me,"  laughed  Peter. 

"Of  what  were  you  thinking ? " 

"  Of  eyelashes,"  confessed  Peter. 

"It's  terrible  !  "  cogitated  Leonore,  "  I  can't  snub  him 
any  more,  try  as  I  may." 

In  truth,  Peter  was  not  worrying  any  longer  over  what 
Leonore  said  or  did  to  him.  He  was  merely  enjoying  her 
companionship.  He  was  at  once  absolutely  happy,  and 
absolutely  miserable.  Happy  in  his  hope.  Miserable  in 


380  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

its  non-certainty.  To  make  a  paradox,  he  was  confident 
that  she  loved  him,  yet  he  was  not  sure.  A  man  will'be 
absolutely  confident  that  a  certain  horse  will  win  a  race, 
or  he  will  be  certain  that  a  profit  will  accrue  from  a  given 
business  transaction.  Yet,  until  the  horse  has  won,  or  the 
profit  is  actually  made,  he  is  not  assured.  So  it  was 
with  Peter.  He  thought  that  he  had  but  to  speak,  yet 
dared  not  do  it.  The  present  was  so  certain,  and  the  future 
might  have  such  agonies.  So  for  two  days  he  merely 
followed  Leonore  about,  enjoying  her  pretty  ways  and 
hardly  heeding  her  snubs  and  petulance.  He  was  very 
silent,  and  often  abstracted,  but  his  silence  and  abstrac- 
tion brought  no  relief  to  Leonore,  and  only  frightened  her 
the  more,  for  he  hardly  let  her  out  of  his  sight,  and  the 
silent  devotion  and  tenderness  were  so  obvious  that 
Leonore  felt  how  absolutely  absurd  was  her  pretence  of 
unconsciousness.  In  his  very  "  Miss  D'Alloi "  now,  there 
was  a  tone  in  his  voice  and  a  look  in  his  face  which  really 
said  the  words  :  "My  darling."  Leonore  thought  this  was 
a  mean  trick,  of  apparently  sustaining  the  conventions  of 
society,  while  in  reality  outraging  them  horribly,  but  she 
was  helpless  to  better  his  conduct.  Twice  unwittingly  he 
even  called  her  "  Leonore  "  (as  he  had  to  himself  for  two 
months),  thereby  terribly  disconcerting  the  owner  of  that 
name.  She  wanted  to  catch  him  up  and  snub  him 
each  time,  but  she  was  losing  her  courage.  She  knew 
that  she  was  walking  on  a  mine,  and  could  not  tell  what 
chance  word  or  deed  of  hers  would  bring  an  explosion. 
"And  then  what  can  I  say  to  him  ? "  she  asked. 

What  she  said  was  this : 

Peter  came  downstairs  the  third  evening  of  his  stay 
"armed  and  equipped  as  the  law  directs  "  for  a  cotillion. 
In  the  large  hallway,  he  found  Leonore,  likewise  in  gala 
dress,  resting  her  hand  on  the  tall  mantel  of  the  hall,  and 
looking  down  at  the  fire,  feter  stopped  on  the  Ian  ding  to 
enjoy  that  pose.  He  went  over  every  detail  with  deliber- 
ation. But  girl,  gown,  and  things  in  general,  were  much 
too  tempting  to  make  this  distant  glimpse  over  lengthy. 
So  he  descended  to  get  a  closer  view.  The  pose  said  noth- 
ing, and  Peter  strolled  to  the  fire,  and  did  likewise.  But 
if  he  did  not  speak  he  more  than  made  up  for  his  silence 
with  his  eyes. 

Finally  the  pose  said,  "  I  suppose  it's  time  we  started  ? 


GIFTS.  381 

"Some  one's  got  to  speak/'  the  pose  had  decided.  Evi- 
dently the  pose  felt  uneasy  under  that  silent  gaze. 

"It's  only  a  little  past  ten,"  said  Peter,  who  was  quite 
satisfied  with  the  status  quo. 

Then  silence  came  again.  After  this  had  held  for  a  few 
moments,  the  pose  said  :  "  Do  say  something  !  " 

"Something,"  said  Peter.  "  Anything  else  I  can  do  for 
you  ? " 

"Unless  you  can  be  more  entertaining,  we  might  as 
well  be  sitting  in  the  Purdies'  dressing-rooms,  as  standing 
here.  Suppose  we  go  to  the  library  and  sit  with  mamma 
and  papa?  "  Clearly  the  pose  felt  nervous. 

Peter  did  not  like  this  idea.  So  he  said  :  "  I'll  try  to 
amuse  you.  Let  me  tell  you  something  very  interesting 
to  me.  It's  my  birthday  to-morrow." 

"Oh!"  said  Leonore.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
sooner?  Then  I  would  have  had  a  gift  for  you." 

"That's  what  I  was  afraid  of." 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  give  you  something?  " 

"Yes."  Then  Peter's  hands  trembled,  and  he  seemed 
to  have  hard  work  in  adding,  "I  want  you  to  give  me — 
a  kiss." 

"Peter  !  "  said  Leonore,  drawing  back  grieved  and  in- 
dignant. "I  didn't  think  you  would  speak  to  me  so. 
Of  all  men  !  " 

"You  mustn't  think,  "said  Peter,  "that  I  meant  to  pain 
you. " 

"  You  have,"  said  Leonore,  almost  ready  to  cry. 

"Because,"  said  Peter,  "that  isn't  what  I  meant." 
Peter  obviously  struggled  to  find  words  to  say  what  he 
did  mean  as  he  had  never  struggled  over  the  knottiest  of 
legal  points,  or  the  hardest  of  wrestling  matches.  "  If  I 
thought  you  were  a  girl  who  would  kiss  a  man  for  the 
asking,  I  should  not  care  for  a  kiss  from  you."  Peter 
strayed  away  from  the  fire  uneasily.  "But  I  know  you 
are  not."  Peter  gazed  wildly  round,  as  if  the  furnishings 
of  the  hall  might  suggest  the  words  for  which  he  was 
blindly  groping.  But  they  didn't,  and  after  one  or  two 
half-begun  sentences,  he  continued:  "  I  haven't  watched 
you,  and  dreamed  about  you.  and  loved  you,  for  all  this 
time,  without  learning  what  you  are."  Peter  roamed 
about  the  great  hall  restlessly.  ' '  I  know  that  your  lips  will 
never  give  what  your  heart  doesn't."  Then  his  face  took 


jSl  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

a  despairing  look,  and  he  continued  quite  rapidly :  "I  ask 
without  much  hope.  You  are  so  lovely,  while  I — well  I'm 
not  a  man  women  care  for.  I've  tried  to  please  you. 
Tried  to  please  you  so  hard,  that  I  may  have  deceived 
you.  I  probably  am  what  women  say  of  me.  But  if  I've 
been  otherwise  with  you  it  is  because  you  are  different 
from  any  other  woman  in  the  world."  Here  the  sudden 
flow  of  words  ended,  and  Peter  paced  up  and  down,  trying 
to  find  what  to  say.  If  any  one  had  seen  Peter  as  he 
paced,  without  his  present  environment,  he  would  have 
thought  him  a  man  meditating  suicide.  Suddenly  his 
voice  and  face  became  less  wild,  and  he  said  tenderly : 
"There  is  no  use  in  my  telling  you  how  I  love  you. 
You  know  it  now,  or  will  never  learn  it  from  anything  I 
can  say."  Peter  strode  back  to  the  fire.  "It  is  my  love 
which  asks  for  a  kiss.  And  I  want  it  for  the  love  you 
will  give  with  it,  if  you  can  give  it." 

Leonore  had  apparently  kept  her  eyes  on  the  blazing 
logs  during  the  whole  of  this  monologue.  But  she  must 
have  seen  something  of  Peter's  uneasy  wanderings  about 
the  room,  for  she  had  said  to  herself:  "  Poor  dear  !  He 
must  be  fearfully  in  earnest.  I  never  knew  him  so  rest- 
less. He  prowls  just  like  a  wild  animal/' 

A  moment's  silence  came  after  Peter's  return  to  the  fire. 
Then  he  said :  "Will  you  give  it  to  me,  Miss  D'Alloi  ?" 
But  his  voice  in  truth,  made  the  words,  "Give  me  what  I 
ask,  my  darling." 

"  Yes,"  said  Leonore  softly.  "  On  your  birthday." 
Then  Leonore  shrank  back  a  little,  as  if  afraid  that  her 
gift  would  be  sought  sooner.  No  young  girl,  however 
much  she  loves  a  man,  is  quite  ready  for  that  first  kiss. 
A  man's  lips  upon  her  own  are  too  contrary  to  her  instinct 
and  previous  training  to  make  them  an  unalloyed  pleasure. 
The  girl  who  is  over-ready  for  her  lover's  first  kiss,  has 
tasted  the  forbidden  fruit  already,  or  has  waited  over-long 
for  it. 

Peter  saw  the  little  shrinking  and  understood  it.  What 
was  more,  he  heeded  it  as  many  men  would  not  have  done. 
Perhaps  there  was  something  selfish  in  his  self-denial,  for 
the  purity  and  girlishness  which  it  indicated  were  very 
dear  to  him,  and  he  hated  to  lessen  them  by  anything  he 
did.  He  stood  quietly  by  her,  and  merely  said,  *  *  I  needn't 
tell  you  how  happy  I  am  1  " 


GIFTS.  383 

Leonore  looked  up  into  Peter's  face.  IfLeonore  had 
seen  there  any  lack  of  desire  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and 
kiss  her,  she  would  never  have  forgiven  him.  But  since 
his  face  showed  beyond  doubt  that  he  was  longing  to  do 
it,  Leonore  loved  him  all  the  better  for  his  repression  of 
self,  out  of  regard  for  her.  She  slipped  her  little  hand  into 
Peter's  confidingly,  and  said,  "So  am  I."  It  means  a 
good  deal  when  a  girl  does  not  wish  to  run  away 
from  her  lover  the  moment  after  she  has  confessed  her 
love. 

So  they  stood  for  some  time,  Leonore  looking  down  into 
the  fire,  and  Peter  looking  down  at  Leonore. 

Finally  Peter  said,  "  Will  you  do  me  a  great  favor  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Leonore,  "  I've  done  enough  for  one  night 
But  you  can  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Will  you  look  up  at  me  ?  " 

"  What  for  ?  "  said  Leonore,  promptly  looking  up. 

"  I  want  to  see  your  eyes,"  said  Peter. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Leonore,  promptly  looking  down  again. 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  "I've  been  dreaming  all  my  life 
about  some  eyes,  and  I  want  to  see  what  my  dream  is 
like  in  reality." 

"That's  a  very  funny  request,  "said  Leonore  perversely. 
"You  ought  to  have  found  out  about  them  long  ago. 
The  idea  of  any  one  falling  in  love,  without  knowing  about 
the  eyes  ! " 

"But  you  show  your  eyes  so  little,"  said  Peter.  "I've 
never  had  a  thoroughly  satisfying  look  at  them." 

"You  look  at  them  every  time  I  look  at  you,"  said 
Leonore.  "Sometimes  it  was  very  embarrassing.  Just 
supposing  that  I  showed  them  to  you  now,  and  that  you 
find  they  aren't  what  you  like  ? " 

"I  never  waste  time  discussing  impossibilities,'"  said 
Peter.  "  Are  you  going  to  let  me  see  them  ?  " 

"  How  long  will  it  take  ?  " 

"I  can  tell  better  after  I've  seen  them,"  said  Peter, 
astutely. 

"I  don't  think  I  have  time  this  evening,"  said  Leonore, 
still  perversely,  though  smiling  a  look  of  contentment 
down  into  the  fire. 

Peter  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  wishing  to  giva 
Leonore's  conscience  a  chance  to  begin  to  prick.  Then  he 
ended  the  silence  by  saying:  "  If  I  had  anything  thafc 


3 84  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

would  give  you  pleasure,  I  wouldn't  make  you  ask  for  it 
twice. " 

"That's— different,"  said  Leonora  "Still,  I'll— well, 
look  at  them,"  and  Leonore  lifted  her  eyes  to  Peter's  half 
laughingly  and  half  timidly. 

Peter  studied  those  eyes  in  silence — studied  them  till 
Leonore,  who  did  not  find  that  steady  look  altogether  easy 
to  bear,  and  yet  was  not  willing  to  confess  herself  stared 
out  of  countenance,  asked  :  "  Do  you  like  them  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Peter. 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  say  ?  Other  people  have  said 
very  complimentary  things  !  "  said  Leonore,  pretending  to 
be  grieved  over  the  monosyllable,  yet  in  reality  delighting 
in  its  expressiveness  as  Peter  said  it. 

"  I  think,"  said  Peter,  "that  before  I  can  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  your  eyes,  we  shall  have  to  invent  some  new 
words." 

Leonore  looked  down  again  into  the  fire,  smiling  a  satis- 
fied smile.  Peter  looked  down  at  that  down-turned  head, 
also  with  a  satisfied  smile.  Then  there  was  another  long 
silence.  Incidentally  it  is  to  be  noted  that  Peter  still  held 
the  hand  given  him  some  time  before.  To  use  a  poker 
term,  Peter  was  standing  "pat,"  and  wished  no  change. 
Once  or  twice  the  little  hand  had  hinted  that  it  had  been 
held  long  enough,  but  Peter  did  not  think  so,  and  the  hand 
had  concluded  that  it  was  safest  to  let  well  alone.  If  it 
was  too  cruel  it  might  rouse  the  sleeping  lion  which  the 
owner  of  that  hand  knew  to  exist  behind  that  firm, 
quiet  face. 

Presently  Peter  put  his  unoccupied  hand  in  his  breast- 
pocket, and  produced  a  small  sachet.  "  I  did  something 
twice,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  felt  very  meanly  about  at 
times.  Perhaps  you'll  forgive  me  now  ?  "  He  took  from 
the  sachet,  a  glove,  and  a  small  pocket-handkerchief,  and 
without  a  word  showed  them  to  Leonore. 

Leonore  looked  at  them.  "That's  the  glove  I  lost  at 
Mrs.  Costell's,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  asked  gravely. 

Peter  nodded  his  head. 

"And  is  that  the  handkerchief  which  disappeared  in 
your  rooms,  at  your  second  dinner  ?  " 

Peter  nodded  his  head. 

"  And  both  times  you  helped  me  hunt  for  them  ?  " 

Peter  nodded  his  head.  He  at  last  knew  how  prisoners 
felt  when  he  was  cross-examining  them. 


GIFTS.  385 

"I  knew  you  had  them  all  the  time,"  said  Leonore 
laughing.  "  It  was  dreadfully  funny  to  see  you  pretend 
to  hunt,  when  the  guilty  look  on  your  own  face  was 
enough  to  show  you  had  them.  That's  why  I  was  so 
determined  to  find  them." 

Peter  knew  how  prisoners  felt  when  the  jury  says,  "  Not 
guilty." 

"But  how  did  the  holes  come  in  them  ?  "  said  Leonore. 
"Do  you  have  mice  in  your  room?"  Leonore  suddenly 
looked  as  worried  as  had  Peter  the  moment  before. 

Peter  put  his  hand  in  the  sachet,  and  produced  a  bent 
coin.  "  Look  at  that,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  it's  my  luck-piece  !  "  exclaimed  Leonore.  "And 
you've  spoiled  that  too.  What  a  careless  boy  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Peter.  "  They  are  not  spoiled  to  me.  Do 
you  know  what  cut  these  holes  and  bent  this  coin  ?" 

"What?" 

"A  bullet." 

"Peter!" 

"Yes.  Your  luck-piece  stopped  it,  or  I  shouldn't  be 
here. " 

' '  There, "  said  Leonore  triumphantly,  ' '  I  said  you  weren't 
hurt,  when  the  news  of  the  shooting  came,  because  I 
knew  you  had  it.  I  was  so  glad  you  had  taken  it !  " 

"I  am  going  to  give  it  back  to  you  by  and  by,"  said 
Peter. 

"  I  had  rather  that  you  should  have  it,"  said  Leonore. 
"  I  want  you  to  have  my  luck." 

"I  shall  have  it  just  the  same  even  after  I've  given  it 
to  you,"  said  Peter. 

"How?" 

"I'm  going  to  have  it  made  into  a  plain  gold  ring/' 
replied  Peter,  "  and  when  I  give  it  to  you,  I  shall  have  all 
your  luck." 

Then  came  a  silence. 

Finally  Peter  said,  "Will  you  please  tell  me  what  you 
meant  by  talking  about  five  years  !  " 

"Oh  1  Really,  Peter,"  Leonore  hastened  to  explain,  in 
an  anxious  way,  as  if  Peter  had  charged  her  with  murder 
or  some  other  heinous  crime.  "  I  did  think  so.  I  didn't 
find  it  out  till— till  that  night.  Really  1  Won't  you  be- 
lieve me  ?  " 

Peter    smiled.       He    could    have    believed    anything. 
25 


386  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Now,"    he    said,    "I   know   at    last   what   Anarchists 
are  for." 

His  ready  acceptance  of  her  statement  made  Leonore 
feel  a  slight  prick  of  conscience.  She  said:  "Well — 
Peter — I  mean — that  is — at  least,  I  did  sometimes  think 
before  then — that  when  I  married,  Itl  marry  you — but 
I  didn't  think  it  would  come  so  soon.  Did  you?  I 
thought  we'd  wait.  It  would  have  been  so  much  more 
sensible  1  " 

"I've  waited  a  long  time,'*'  said  Peter. 

"  Poor  dear  !  "  said  Leonore,  putting  her  other  hand 
over  Peter's,  which  held  hers. 

Peter  enjoyed  this  exquisite  pleasure  in  silence  for  a 
time,  but  the  enjoyment  was  too  great  not  to  be  ex- 
pressed. So  he  said  : 

"  I  like  your  hands  almost  as  much  as  your  eyes." 

"That's  very  nice,"  said  Leonore. 

"And  I  like  the  way  you  say  'dear/"  said  Peter, 
4*  Don't  you  want  to  say  it  again  ?  " 

"No,  I  hate  people  who  say  the  same  thing  twice." 

Then  there  was  a  long  pause. 

"  What  poor  things  words  are  ? "  said  Peter,  at  the 
end  of  it. 

"I  know  just  what  you  mean,"  said  Leonore. 

Clearly  they  both  meant  what  they  said,  for  there  came 
another  absence  of  words.  How  long  the  absence  would 
have  continued  is  a  debatable  point.  Much  too  soon  a 
door  opened. 

"  Hello  !  "  said  a  voice.  "  Back  already  ?  What  kind 
of  an  evening  had  you  ?  " 

"A  very  pleasant  one,"  said  Peter,  calmly,  yet  expres- 
sively. 

"Let  go  my  hand,  Peter,  please,"  a  voice  whispered 
imploringly.  "  Oh,  please  1  I  can't  to-night.  Oh, 
please  1 " 

"  Say  «  dear,'  "  whispered  Peter,  meanly. 

"Please,  dear,'  said  Leonore.  Then  Leonore  went 
towards  the  stairs  hurriedly. 

"  Not  off  already,  Dot,  surely-?  " 

"Yes.     I'm  going  to  bed." 

"Come  and  have  a  cigar,  Peter/' said  Watts,  walking- 
towards  the  library. 

"In  a  moment/' said  Peter.     He  went  to  the  foot  of 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MA?."       387 

the  stairs  and  said,  "Please,  dear,"  to  the  figure  going 
up. 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  figure. 

Peter  went  up  five  steps.      "Please,"  he  begged. 

"No,"  said  the  figure,  "but  there  is  my  hand." 

So  Peter  turned  the  little  soft  palm  uppermost  and  kissed 
it.  Then  he  forgot  the  cigar  and  Watts.  He  went  to  his 
room,  and  thought  of — of  his  birthday  gift. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 
«  GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY." 

IF  Peter  had  roamed  about  the  hall  that  evening,  he  was 
still  more  restless  the  next  morning.  He  was  down 
early,  though  for  no  apparent  reason,  and  did  nothing 
but  pass  from  hall  to  room,  and  room  to  hall,  spending' 
most  of  his  time  in  the  latter,  however. 

How  Leonore  could  have  got  from  her  room  into  the 
garden  without  Peter's  seeing  her  was  a  question  which 
puzzled  him  not  a  little,  when,  by  a  chance  glance  out  of 
a  window,  he  saw  that  personage  clipping  roses  off  the 
bushes.  He  did  not  have  time  to  spare,  however,  to 
reason  out  an  explanation.  He  merely  stopped  roaming, 
and  went  out  to — to  the  roses. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Leonore  pleasantly,  though  not 
looking  at  Peter,  as  she  continued  her  clipping. 

Peter  did  not  say  anything  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
asked,  "Is  that  all?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Leonore,  inno- 
cently. "Besides,  someone  might  be  looking  out  of  a 
window." 

Peter  calmly  took  hold  of  the  basket  to  help  Leonore 
sustain  its  enormous  weight.  "Let  me  help  you  carry 
it,"  he  said. 

"Very  well,"  said  Leonore.  "  But  there's  no  occasion 
to  carry  my  hand  too.  I'm  not  decrepit." 

"I  hoped  I  was  helping  you,"  said  Peter. 

"You  are  not.  But  you  may  carry  the  basket,  since 
you  want  to  hold  something." 

"Very  well,"  said  Peter  meekly. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Leonore,    as  she  snipped,  and 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

dropped  roses  into  the  basket,  "you  are  not  as  obstinate 
as  people  say  you  are." 

"Don't  deceive  yourself  on  that  score,"  said  Peter. 

"Well !  I  mean  you  are  not  absolutely  determined  to 
have  your  own  way. " 

"  I  never  give  up  my  own  views,"  said  Peter,  "  unless 
I  can  see  more  to  be  gained  by  so  doing.  To  that  extent 
I  am  not  at  all  obstinate." 

"Suppose,"  said  Leonore,  "that  you  go  and  cut  the 
roses  on  those  furthest  bushes  while  I  go  in  and  arrange 
these  ?  " 

"Suppose,"  said  Peter  calmly,  and  with  an  evident  lack 
of  enthusiasm. 

"Well.     Will  you?" 

"No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"The  motion  to  adjourn,"  said  Peter,  "is  never  debat- 
able." 

"Do  you  know,'*'  said  Leonore,  "that  you  are  begin- 
ning very  badly?  " 

"That  is  what  I  have  thought  ever  since  I  joined  you." 

"Then  why  don't  you  go  away?  " 

*'  Why  make  bad,  worse  ?  " 

"There,"  said  Leonore.  "Your  talking  has  made  me 
cut  my  finger,  almost." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Peter,  reaching  out  for  her  hand. 

"I'm  too  busy,"  said  Leonore. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Peter,  "  that  if  you  cut  many 
more  buds,  you  won't  have  any  more  roses  for  a  week. 
You've  cut  twice  as  many  roses  as  you  usually  do." 

"Then  Til  go  in  and  arrange  them.  I  wish  you  would 
give  Betise  a  run  across  the  lawn." 

"I  never  run  before  breakfast,"  said  Peter.  "Doctors 
say  it's  very  bad." 

So  he  followed  her  in.  Leonore  became  tremendously 
occupied  in  arranging  the  flowers.  Peter  became  tre- 
mendously occupied  in  watching  her. 

"You  want  to  save  one  of  those  for  me,"  he  said, 
presently. 

"Take  one,"  said  Leonore. 

"My  legal  rule  has  been  that  I  never  take  what  I  can 
get  given  me.  You  can't  do  less  than  pin  it  in  my  but- 
ton-hole, considering  that  it  is  my  birthday." 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY"       389 

"  If  I  have  a  duty  to  do,  I  always  get  through  with  it 
et  once,"  said  Leonore.  She  picked  out  a  rose,  arranged 
the  leaves  as  only  womankind  can,  and,  turning  to  Peter, 
pinned  it  in  his  button-hole.  But  when  she  went  to  take 
her  hands  away,  she  found  them  held  against  the  spot  sr> 
firmly  that  she  could  feel  the  heart-beats  underneath. 

"Oh,  please/'  was  all  she  said,  appealingly,  while 
Peters  rose  seemed  to  reflect  some  of  its  color  on  her 
cheeks. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  give  it  to  me  if  you  don't  wish," 
said  Peter,  simply.  "But  last  night  I  sat  up  late  thinking 
about  it  All  night  I  dreamed  about  it.  When  I  waked 
up  this  morning,  I  was  thinking  about  it.  And  I've 
thought  about  it  ever  since.  I  can  wait,  but  I've  waited 
so  long  I " 

Then  Leonore,  with  very  red  cheeks,  and  a  very  timid 
manner,  held  her  lips  up  to  Peter. 

"Still,"  Leonore  said  presently,  when  again  arranging 
of  the  roses,  "since  you've  waited  so  long,  you  needn't 
have  been  so  slow  about  it  when  you  did  get  it." 

"I'm  sorry  I  did  it  so  badly,"  said  Peter,  contritely. 
"  I  always  was  slow  1  Let  me  try  again  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  show  me  how  ? " 

"No." 

"Now  who's  obstinate? "  inquired  Peter. 

"You,"  said  Leonore,  promptly.  "And  I  don't  like 
it." 

"Oh,  Leonore,"  said  Peter.  "If  you  only  knew  how 
happy  I  am  1  " 

Leonore  forgot  all  about  her  charge  of  obstinacy.  "So 
am  I,"  she  said.  "And  I  won't  be  obstinate  any  more/' 

"Was  that  better?"  Peter  asked,  presently. 

"No,"  said  Leonore.  "That  wouldn't  have  been  pos- 
sible. But  you  do  take  so  long  I  I  shan't  be  able  to  give 
you  more  than  one  a  day.  It  takes  so  much  time." 

"  But  then  I  shall  have  to  be  much  slower  about  it" 

"Then  I'll  only  give  you  one  every  other  day." 

"Then  I  shall  be  so  much  the  longer." 

"Yes,"  sighed  Leonore.    "  You  are  obstinate,  after  all  ?  * 

So  they  went  on  till  breakfast  was  announced.  Perhaps 
It  was  foolish.  But  they  were  happy  in  their  foolishness, 
if  such  it  was.  It  is  not  profitable  to  write  what  they 


39° 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


said.  It  is  idle  to  write  of  the  week  that  followed.  To 
all  others  what  they  said  and  did  could  only  be  the  say- 
ings and  doings  of  two  very  intolerable  people.  But  to 
them  it  was  what  can  never  be  told  in  words — and  to 
them  we  will  leave  it. 

It  was  Leonore  who  put  an  end  to  this  week.  Each 
day  that  Peter  lingered  brought  letter  and  telegraphic 
appeals  to  him  from  the  party-leaders,  over  which  Peter 
only  laughed,  and  which  he  not  infrequently  failed  even 
to  answer.  But  Mr.  Pell  told  Leonore  something  one 
day  which  made  her  say  to  Peter  later  : 

"Is  it  true  that  you  promised  to  speak  in  New  York  on 
the  fifteenth  ? " 

"  Yes.     But  I  wrote  Green  last  night  saying  I  shan't." 

"And  were  you  to  have  made  a  week  of  speeches 
through  the  State  ?  " 

"Yes.     But  I  can't  spare  the  time." 

"Yes,  you  can.  You  must  leave  to-morrow  and  make 
them." 

"  I  can't,"  groaned  Peter. 

"You  must." 

"Who  says  so  ?" 

"I  do.  Please,  Peter?  I  so  want  to  see  you  win.  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself  if  I  defeat  you." 

"  But  a  whole  week,"  groaned  Peter. 

"We  shall  break  up  here  on  the  eighteenth,  and  of 
course  you  would  have  to  leave  a  day  sooner.  So  you'll 
not  be  any  better  off." 

"Well,"  sighed  Peter,  "If  I  do  as  you  want,  will  you 
give  me  the  seven  I  shall  lose  before  I  go." 

"Dear  me,  Peter,"  sighed  Leonore,  "you  oughtn't  to 
ask  them,  since  it's  for  your  own  sake.  I  can't  keep  you 
contented  You  do  nothing  but  encroach." 

"  I  should  get  them  if  I  was  here,"  said  Peter.  "  And 
one  a  day  is  little  enough !  I  think,  if  I  oblige  you  by 
going  away,  I  shouldn't  be  made  to  suffer  more  than  is 
necessary." 

"  I'm  going  to  call  you  Growley, "  said  Leonore,  patting 
him  on  the  cheek.  Then  she  put  her  own  against  it 
"Thank  you,  dear,"  she  said.  "It's  just  as  hard  fof 
me." 

So  Peter  buckled  on  his  armor  and  descended  into  the 
arena.  Whether  he  spoke  well  or  ill,  we  leave  it  to  those 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE   YE  MAY?"      391 

to  say  who  care  to  turn  back  to  the  files  of  the  papers  of 
that  campaign.  Perhaps,  however,  it  may  be  well  to  add 
that  an  entirely  unbiassed  person,  after  reading  his  open- 
ing speeches,  delivered  in  the  Cooper  Union  and  the  Met- 
ropolitan Opera  House,  in  New  York  City,  wrote  him  : 
"It  is  libel  to  call  you  Taciturnity.  They  are  splendid  I 
How  I  wish  I  could  hear  you — and  see  you,  dear.  I'm 
very  lonely,  and  so  are  Betise  and  Tawney-eye.  We  do 
nothing  but  wander  round  the  house  all  day,  waiting  for 
your  letter,  and  the  papers."  Three  thousard  people  in 
the  Brooklyn  Rink  were  kept  waiting  for  nearly  ten 
minutes  by  Peter's  perusal  of  that  letter.  But  when  he 
had  finished  it,  and  had  reached  the  Rink,  he  out-Stirlinged 
Stirling.  A  speaker  nowadays  speaks  far  more  to  the 
people  absent  than  to  the  people  present.  Peter  did  this 
that  evening.  He  spoke,  it  is  true,  to  only  one  person 
that  night,  but  it  was  the  best  speech  of  the  campaign* 

A  week  later,  Peter  rang  the  bell  of  the  Fifty-seventh 
Street  house.  He  was  in  riding  costume,  although  he  had 
not  been  riding. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  D'Alloi  are  at  breakfast,"  he  was  in* 
formed. 

Peter  rather  hurriedly  laid  his  hat  and  crop  on  the  hall- 
table,  and  went  through  the  hall,  but  his  hurry  suddenly 
came  to  an  end,  when  a  young  lady,  carrying  her  napkin, 
added  herself  to  the  vista.  "  I  knew  it  must  be  you,"  she 
said,  offering  her  hand  very  properly — (on  what  grounds 
Leonore  surmised  that  a  ring  at  the  door-bell  at  nine 
o'clock  meant  Peter,  history  does  not  state) — "I  won- 
dered if  you  knew  enough  to  come  to  breakfast.  Mamma 
sent  me  out  to  say  that  you  are  to  come  right  in." 

Peter  was  rather  longer  over  the  handshake  than  conven- 
tion demands,  but  he  asked  very  politely,  "  How  are  your 

father  and ?"  But  just  then  the  footman  closed  a 

door  behind  him,  and  Peter's  interest  in  parents  suddenly 
ceased. 

"  How  could  you  be  so  late?"  said  some  one  presently. 
"I  watched  out  of  the  window  for  nearly  an  hour." 

"My  train  was  late.  The  time-table  on  that  road  is 
simply  a  satire  !  "  said  Peter.  Yet  it  is  the  best  managed 
road  in  the  country,  and  this  particular  train  was  only 
seven  minutes  overdue. 

"You  have  been  to  ride,  though,"  said  Leonore. 


392  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"No.  I  have  an  engagement  to  ride  with  a  disagree*- 
able  girl  after  breakfast,  so  I  dressed  for  it." 

"  Suppose  the  disagreeable  girl  should  break  her  engage- 
ment— or  declare  there  never  was  one  ?  " 

"She  won't,"  said  Peter.  "It  may  not  have  been  put 
in  the  contract,  but  the  common  law  settles  it  beyond 
question." 

Leonore  laughed  a  happy  laugh.  Then  she  asked : 
*'  For  whom  are  those  violets  ? " 

"  I  had  to  go  to  four  places  before  I  could  get  any  at 
this  season, "  said  Peter.  * '  Ugly  girls  are  j ust  troublesome 
enough  to  have  preferences.  What  will  you  give  me  for 
them  ? " 

"Some  of  them,"  said  Leonore,  and  obtained  the  bunch. 
Who  dares  to  say  after  that  that  women  have  no  business 
ability  nor  shrewdness  ?  It  is  true  that  she  kissed  the  frac- 
tion returned  before  putting  it  in  Peter's  button-hole, 
which  raises  the  question  which  had  the  best  of  the 
bargain. 

"I'm  behind  the  curtain,  so  I  can't  see  anything," 
said  a  voice  from  a  doorway,  "and  therefore  you  needn't 
jump  ;  but  I  wish  to  inquire  if  you  two  want  any  break- 
fast ?  " 

A  few  days  later  Peter  again  went  up  the  steps  of  the 
Fifty-seventh  Street  house.  This  practice  was  becoming 
habitual  with  Peter  ;  in  fact,  so  habitual  that  his  cabby 
had  said  to  him  this  very  day,  "The  old  place,  sir?" 
Where  Peter  got  the  time  it  is  difficult  to  understand,  con- 
sidering that  his  law  practice  was  said  to  be  large,  and  his 
political  occupations  just  at  present  not  small.  But  that 
is  immaterial.  The  simple  fact  that  Peter  went  up  the 
steps  is  the  essential  truth. 

From  the  steps,  he  passed  into  a  door ;  from  the  door 
he  passed  into  a  hall  ;  from  a  hall  he  passed  into  a  room ; 
from  a  room  he  passed  into  a  pair  of  arms. 

"Thank  the  Lord,  you've  come,"  Watts  remarked. 
*'  Leonore  has  up  and  down  refused  to  make  the  tea  till 
you  arrived." 

"I  was  at  headquarters,  and  they  would  talk,  talk, 
talk,"  said  Peter.  "I  get  out  of  patience  with  them. 
One  would  think  the  destinies  of  the  human  race  depended 
on  this  campaign  !  " 

"So  the  Growley  should  have  his  tea,"  said  a  vision, 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY?       393 

now  seated  on  the  lounge  at  the  tea-table.  ' '  Then  Gro wley 
will  feel  better." 

"  I'm  doing  that  already/'  said  Growley,  sitting  down 
on  the  delightfully  short  lounge — now  such  a  fashionable 
and  deservedly  popular  drawing-room  article.  "May  I 
tell  you  how  you  can  make  me  absolutely  contented  ? " 

"  I  suppose  that  will  mean  some  favor  from  me,"  said 
Leonore.  "I  don't  like  children  who  want  to  be  bribed 
out  of  their  bad  temper.  Nice  little  boys  are  never  bad- 
tempered." 

"I  was  only  bad-tempered,"  whispered  Peter,  "be- 
cause I  was  kept  from  being  with  you.  That's  cause 
enough  to  make  the  best-tempered  man  in  the  universe 
murderous." 

"Well?"  said  Leonore,  mollifying,  "what  is  it  this 
time?" 

"I  want  you  all  to  come  down  to  my  quarters  this 
evening  after  dinner.  I've  received  warning  that  I'm  to 
be  serenaded  about  nine  o'clock,  and  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  hear  it." 

"What  fun,"  cried  Leonore.  "Of  course  well  go. 
Shall  you  speak  ?  " 

"No.  We'll  sit  in  my  window-seats  merely,  and 
listen." 

"  How  many  will  there  be? " 

"  It  depends  on  the  paper  you  read.  The  'World '  will 
probably  say  ten  thousand,  the  '  Tribune '  three  thousand, 
and  the  '  Voice  of  Labor '  '  a  handful. '  Oh  !  by  the  way,  I 
brought  you  a  'Voice'."  He  handed  Leonore  a  paper, 
which  he  took  from  his  pocket. 

Now  this  was  simply  shameful  of  him  !  Peter  had 
found,  whenever  the  papers  really  abused  him,  that  Leo- 
nore was  doubly  tender  to  him,  the  more,  if  he  pretended 
that  the  attacks  and  abuse  pained  him.  So  he  brought 
her  regularly  now  that  organ  of  the  Labor  party  which 
was  most  vituperative  of  him,  and  looked  sad  over  it  just 
as  long  as  was  possible,  considering  that  Leonore  was 
trying  to  comfort  him. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Leonore.  "That  dreadful  paper-  I 
can't  bear  to  read  it.  Is  it  very  bad  to-day  ?  " 

"I  haven't  read  it,"  said  Peter,  smiling.  "I  never  read 
' — "  then  Peter  coughed,  suddenly  looked  sad,  and  con- 
tinued—"the  parts  that  do  not  speak  of  me."  "That 


394 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 


isn't  a  lie,"  he  told  himself,  "  I  don't  read  them."  But 
he  felt  guilty.  Clearly  Peter  was  losing  his  old-time 
straightforwardn  ess. 

"  After  its  saying  that  you  had  deceived  your  clients 
into  settling  those  suits  against  Mr.  Eohlmann,  upon  his 
promise  to  help  you  in  politics,  I  don't  believe  they  can 
say  anything  worse,"  said  Leonore,  putting  two  lumps 
of  sugar  (with  her  fingers)  into  a  cup  of  tea.  Then  she 
stirred  the  tea,  and  tasted  it.  Then  she  touched  the  edge 
of  the  cup  with  her  lips.  "Is  that  right?"  she  asked, 
as  she  passed  it  to  Peter. 

"Absolutely,"  said  Peter,  looking  the  picture  of  bliss. 
But  then  he  remembered  that  this  wasn't  his  role,  so  he 
looked  sad  and  said:  "That  hurt  me,  I  confess.  It  is 
so  unkind." 

"  Poor  dear,"  whispered  a  voice.  "  You  shall  have  an 
extra  one  to-day,  and  you  shall  take  just  as  long  as  you 
want  !  " 

Now,  how  could  ^mortal  man  look  grieved,  even  over 
an  American  newspaper,  with  that  prospect  in  view  ?  It 
is  true  that  "one"  is  a  very  indefinite  thing.  Perhaps 
Leonore  merely  meant  another  cup  of  tea.  Whatever  she 
meant,  Peter  never  learned,  for,  barely  had  he  tasted 
his  tea  when  the  girl  on  the  lounge  beside  him  gave  a 
cry.  She  rose,  and  as  she  did  so,  some  of  the  tea-things 
fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash. 

"  Leonore  !  "  cried  Peter.      "What " 

"Peter!"  cried  Leonore.  "  Say  it-isn't  so?"  It  was 
terrible  to  see  the  suffering  in  her  face  and  to  hear  the 
appeal  in  her  voice. 

"  My  darling,"  cried  the  mother,   "  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  It  can't  be,"  cried  Leonore.  "Mamma!  Papa!  Say 
it  isn't  so  ?  " 

"What,  my  darling  ?"  said  Peter,  supporting  the  sway- 
ing figure. 

"This,"  said  Leonore,  huskily,  holding  out  the  news- 
paper. 

Mrs.  D'Alloi  snatched  it.  One  glance  she  gave  it. 
"Oh,  my  poor  darling!"  she  cried.  "I  ought  not  to 
have  allowed  it.  Peter  !  Peter  !  Was  not  the  stain  great 
enough,  but  you  must  make  my  poor  child  suffer  for 
it  ? "  She  shoved  Peter  away,  and  clasped  Leonore 
wildly  in  her  arms. 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY."       395 

"  Mamma  !  "  cried  Leon  ore.  "  Don't  talk  so  !  Don't  I 
I  know  he  didn't  !  He  couldn't !  " 

Peter  caught  up  the  paper.  There  in  big  head-lines 
was  : 

SPEAK  UP,  STIRLING  1 


WHO  IS  THIS  BOY  ? 

DETECTIVE  PELTER  FINDS  A  WARD  UNKNOWN 

TO  THE  COURTS,  AND   EXPLANATIONS  ARE 

IN  ORDER  FROM 

PURITY    STIRLING-. 

The  rest  of  the  article  it  is  needless  to  quote.  What  it 
said  was  so  worded  as  to  convey  everything  vile  by 
innuendo  and  inference,  yet  in  truth  saying  nothing. 

"Oh,  my  darling!"  continued  Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "  You 
have  a  right  to  kill  me  for  letting  him  come  here  after  he 
had  confessed  it  to  me.  But  I — Oh,  don't  tremble  so. 
Oh,  Watts  !  We  have  killed  her/' 

Peter  held  the  paper  for  a  moment.  Then  he  handed 
it  to  Watts.  He  only  said  "Watts?"  but  it  was  a  cry 
for  help  and  mercy  as  terrible  as  Leonore's  had  been  the 
moment  before. 

"Of  course,  chum,"  cried  Watts.  "Leonore,  dear, 
it's  all  right.  You  mustn't  mind.  Peter's  a  good  man. 
Better  than  most  of  us.  You  mustn't  mind." 

"Don't,"  cried  Leonore.  "  Let  me  speak.  Mamma, 
did  Peter  tell  you  it  was  so  ?  " 

All  were  silent. 

"  Mamma  !  Say  something  ?  Papa  !  Peter  I  Will 
nobody  speak  ?  " 

"Leonore,"  said  Peter,  "do  not  doubt  me.  Trust 
me  and  I  will " 

"Tell  me,"  cried  Leonore  interrupting,  "was  this 
why  you  didn't  come  to  see  us  ?  Oh  !  I  see  it  all  1  This 
is  what  mamma  knew.  This  is  what  pained  you.  And 
I  thought  it  was  your  love  for !  "  Leonore  screamed. 

"My  darling,"  cried  Peter  wildly,  "don't  look  so. 
Don't  speak " 


396  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"Don't  touch  me,"  cried  Leonore.  "Don't.  Only  go 
away."  Leon  ore  threw  herself  upon  the  rug  weeping. 
It  was  fearful  the  way  those  sobs  shook  her. 

"It  can't  be/'  said  Peter.  "Watts!  She  is  killing 
herself." 

But  Watts  had  disappeared  from  the  room. 

"  Only  go  away,"  cried  Leonore.  "That's  all  you  cai 
do  now.  There's  nothing  to  be  done." 

Peter  leaned  over  and  picked  up  the  prostrate  figure, 
and  laid  it  tenderly  on  the  sofa.  Then  he  kissed  the  edge 
of  her  skirt.  "  Yes.  That's  all  I  can  do,"  he  said  quiet- 
ly. "  Good-bye,  sweetheart.  I'll  go  away."  He  looked 
about  as  if  bewildered,  then  passed  from  the  room  to  the 
hall,  from  the  hall  to  the  door,  from  the  door  to  the  steps. 
He  went  down  them,  staggering  a  little  as  if  dizzy,  and 
tried  to  walk  towards  the  Avenue.  Presently  he  ran  into 
something.  "  Clumsy,"  said  a  lady's  voice.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  said  Peter  mechanically.  A  moment  later 
he  ran  into  something  again.  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
said  Peter,  and  two  well-dressed  girls  laughed  to  see  a 
bareheaded  man  apologize  to  a  lamp-post.  He  walked 
on  once  more,  but  had  not  gone  ten  paces,  when  a  hand 
was  rested  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Now  then,  my  beauty,"  said  a  voice.  "  You  want 
to  get  a  cab,  or  I  shall  have  to  run  you  in.  Where  do  you 
want  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Peter. 

"Come,"  said  the  policeman  shaking  him,  "where 
do  you  belong  ?  My  God  !  It's  Mr.  Stirling.  Why,  sir. 
What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  think  I've  killed  her,"  said  Peter. 
'  He's  awfully  screwed,"  ejaculated  the  policeman. 
"And  him  of  all  men  !  Nobody  shall  know."  He  hailed 
a  passing  cab,  and  put  Peter  into  it.  Then  he  gave 
Peter's  office  address,  and  also  got  in.  He  was  fined  the 
next  day  for  being  off  his  beat  "without  adequate  rea- 
sons," but  he  never  told  where  he  had  been.  When 
they  reached  the  building,  he  helped  Peter  into  the  eleva- 
tor. From  there  he  helped  him  to  his  door.  He  rang  the 
bell,  but  no  answer  came.  It  was  past  office-hours,  and 
Jenifer  having  been  told  that  Peter  would  dine  up-town, 
aad  departed  on  his  own  leave  of  absence.  The  police- 
man had  already  gone  through  Peter's  pockets  to  get 


«  GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY."      397 

money  for  cabby,  and  now  he  repeated  the  operation, 
taking  possession  of  Peter's  keys.  He  opened  the  door 
and,  putting  him  into  a  deep  chair  in  the  study,  laid 
the  purse  and  keys  on  Peter's  desk,  writing  on  a  scrap- 
of  paper  with  much  difficulty  :  "  mr.  Stirling  $2.  50  I  took 
to  pay  the  carriage.  John  Motty  policeman  22  precinct," 
he  laid  it  beside  the  keys  and  purse.  Then  he  went  back 
to  his  beat. 

And  what  was  Peter  doing  all  this  time  ?  Just  what  he 
now  did.  He  tried  to  think,  though  each  eye  felt  as  if  a 
red  hot  needle  was  burning  in  it.  Presently  he  rose,  and 
began  to  pace  the  floor,  but  he  kept  stumbling  over  the 
desk  and  chairs.  As  he  stumbled  he  thought,  sometimes 
to  himself,  sometimes  aloud:  "If  I  could  only  think! 
I  can't  see.  What  was  it  Dr.  Pilcere  said  about  her  eyes? 
Or  was  it  my  eyes?  Did  he  give  me  some  medicine?  I 
can't  remember.  And  it  wouldn't  help  her.  Why  can't 
1  think?  What  is  this  pain  in  her  head  and  eyes?  Why- 
does  everything  look  so  dark,  except  when  those  pains  go> 
through  her  head  ?  They  feel  like  flashes  of  lightning, 
and  then  I  can  see.  Why  can't  I  think  ?  Her  eyes  get  in 
the  way.  He  gave  me  something  to  put  on  them.  But 
I  can't  give  it  to  her.  She  told  me  to  go  away.  To  stop- 
this  agony  !  How  she  suffers.  It's  getting  worse  every 
moment.  I  can't  remember  about  the  medicine.  There 
it  comes  again.  Now  I  know.  It's  not  lightning.  It's 
the  petroleum  I  Be  quick,  boys.  Can't  you  hear  my 
darling  scream  ?  It's  terrible.  If  I  could  only  think. 
What  was  it  the  French  doctor  said  to  do,  if  it  came 
back?  No.  We  want  to  get  some  rails."  Peter  dashed 
himself  against  a  window.  "Once  more,  men,  together. 
Can't  you  hear  her  scream  ?  Break  down  the  door  !  '* 
Peter  caught  up  and  hurled  a  pot  of  flowers  at  the  window, 
and  the  glass  shattered  and  fell  to  the  floor  and  street 
"  If  I  could  see.  But  it's  all  dark.  Are  those  lights? 
No.  It's  too  late.  I  can't  save  her  from  it." 

So  he  wandered  physically  and  mentally.  Wandered 
till  sounds  of  martial  music  came  up  through  the  broken 
window.  "  Fall  in,"  cried  Peter.  "The  Anarchists  are 
after  her.  It's  dynamite,  not  lightning.  Podds,  Don't 
let  them  hurt  her.  Save  her.  Oh !  save  her  1  Why  can't 
I  get  to  her?  Don't  try  to  hold  me,"  he  cried,  as  he 
came  in  contact  with  a  chair.  He  caught  it  up  and  hurled 


398  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

it  across  the  room,  so  that  it  crashed  into  the  picture- 
frames,  smashing  chair  and  frames  into  fragments.  "I 
can't  be  the  one  to  throw  it,"  he  cried,  in  an  agonized 
voice.  "  She's  all  I  have.  For  years  I've  been  so  lonely. 
Don't.  I  can't  throw  it.  It  kills  me  to  see  her  suffer.  It 
wouldn't  be  so  horrible  if  I  hadn't  done  it  myself.  If  I 
didn't  love  her  so.  But  to  blow  her  up  myself.  I  can't. 
Men,  will  you  stand  by  me,  and  help  me  to  save  her  ?  " 
The  band  of  music  stopped.  A  moment's  silence  felt 
.and  then  up  from  the  street,  came  the  air  of  :  "  Marching 
through  Georgia,"  five  thousand  voices  singing  : 

"  Rally  round  our  party,  boys  ; 
Rally  to  the  blue, 
And  battle  for  our  candidate, 
So  sterling  and  so  true. 
Fight  for  honest  government,  boys, 
And  down  the  vicious  crew ; 
Voting  for  freedom  and  Stirling. 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  Stirling,  brave  and  strong1. 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  Stirling,  never  wrong. 
And  roll  the  voters  up  in  line, 
Two  hundred  thousand  strong; 
Voting  for  freedom  and  Stirling. 

"  I  can't  fight  so  many.  Two  hundred  thousand  I  I 
have  no  sword.  I  didn't  shoot  them.  No  1  I  only  gave 
the  order.  It  hurt  me,  but  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  her. 
She's  all  I  have.  Do  you  think  I  intended  to  kill  her? 
No  1  No  sacrifice  would  be  too  great.  And  you  can  talk 
to  me  of  votes  I  Two  hundred  thousand  votes  !  I  did 
my  best  for  her.  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  her.  And  I  went 
to  see  the  families.  I  went  to  see  them  all.  If  I  only 
could  think.  But  she  is  suffering  too  much.  I  can't  think 
as  long  as  she  lies  on  the  rug,  and  trembles  so.  See  the 
flashes  of  lightning  pass  through  her  head.  Don't  bury 
your  face  in  the  rug.  No  wonder  it's  all  dark.  Try  to 
think,  and  then  it  will  be  all  right." 

Up  from  the  street  came  the  air  of :  ' '  There  were  three 
crows,"  and  the  words  : 

M  Steven  Maguire  has  schemed  to  be  elected  November  fourth, 
Steven  Maguire  has  schemed  to  be  elected  November  fourth, 
Steven  Maguire  has  schemed  and  schemed, 

But  all  his  schemes  will  end  in  froth ! 
And  the  people  will  all  shout,  Hurrah,  rah,  rah,  rah. 
And  the  people  will  all  shout,  Hurrah,  rah,  rah,  rah. 


"GATHER  YE  ROSEBUDS  WHILE  YE  MAY."      399 

For  Peter  Stirling  elected  will  be  upon  November  fourth, 
For  Peter  Stirling  elected  will  be  upon  November  fourth, 
For  Peter  Stirling  elected  will  be 

And  Steven  Maguire  will  be  in  broth, 
And  the  people  will  all  shout,  Hurrah,  rah,  rah,  rah, 
And  the  people  will  all  shout,  Hurrah,  rah,  rah,  rah. 

"  It's  Steven  Maguire.  He  never  could  be  honest.  If 
I  had  him  here  !  "  Peter  came  in  contact  with  a  chain 
"Who's  that  ?  Ah  !  It's  you.  You've  killed  her.  Now  !  " 
And  another  chair  went  flying  across  the  room  with  such 
force,  that  the  door  to  the  hall  flew  off  its  hinges,  and  fell 
with  a  crash.  "  I've  killed  him"  screamed  Peter.  "I've — 
No,  I've  killed  my  darling.  All  I  have  in  the  world  !  " 

And  so  he  raved,  and  roamed,  and  stumbled,  and  fell ; 
and  rose,  and  roamed,  and  raved,  and, stumbled,  and  fell, 
while  the  great  torchlight  procession  sang  and  cheered 
him  from  below. 

He  was  wildly  fighting  his  pain  still  when  two  persons, 
who,  after  ringing  and  ringing,  had  finally  been  let  in  by 
Jenifer's  key,  stood  where  the  door  had  been. 

"My  God,"  cried  one,  in  terror.  "  He's  crazy  !  Come 
away  !  " 

But  the  other,  without  a  word  or  sign  of  fear,  went  up 
to  that  wild-looking  figure,  and  put  her  hand  in  his. 

Peter  stopped  his  crazed  stride. 

"  I  can't  think,  I  tell  you.  I  can't  think  as  long  as  you 
lie  there  on  the  rug.  And  your  eyes  blaze  so.  They  feel 
just  like  balls  of  fire." 

"Please  sit  down,  Peter.  Please?  For  my  sake. 
Here.  Here  is  the  chair.  Please  sit  down." 

Peter  sank  back  in  the  chair.  "I  tell  you  I  can't  think. 
They  do  nothing  but  burn.  It's  the  petroleum  ! "  He 
started  forward,  but  a  slender  arm  arrested  his  at- 
tempt to  rise,  and  he  sank  back  again  as  if  it  had  some 
power  over  him. 

"  Hyah,  miss.  Foh  de  lub  ub  heaben,  put  some  ub  dis 
yar  on  he  eyes/'  said  Jenifer,  who  had  appeared  with  a 
bottle,  and  was  blubbering  enough  to  supply  a  whole 
whaling  fleet.  "De  doctor  he  done  give  dis  yar  foh  de- 
Aspic  nerve."  Which  is  a  dish  that  Jenifer  must  have  in- 
vented himself,  for  it  is  not  discoverable  even  on  the  full* 
est  of  menus. 

Leonore    knelt   in    front  of   Peter,   and,   drenching  her 


4oo  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

fingers  with  the  wash,  began  rubbing  it  softly  over  his 
eyes.  It  has  always  been  a  problem  whether  it  was  the 
remedy  or  the  ends  of  those  fingers  which  took  those  lines 
of  suffering  out  of  Peter's  face  and  made  him  sit  quietly 
in  that  chair.  Those  having  little  faith  in  medicines,  and 
much  faith  in  a  woman's  hands,  will  opine  the  latter. 
Doctors  will  not. 

Sufficeth  it  to  say,  after  ten  minutes  of  this  treatment, 
during  which  Peter's  face  had  slowly  changed,  first  to  a 
look  of  rest,  and  then  to  one  which  denoted  eagerness, 
doubt  and  anxiety,  but  not  pain,  that  he  finally  put  out 
his  hands  and  took  Leonore's. 

"You  have  come  to  me,"  he  said.  "Has  he  told 
you  ? " 

'  '  Who  ?     What  ?  "  asked  Leonore. 

"You  still  think  I  could?"  cried  Peter.  "Then  why 
are  you  here?"  He  opened  his  eyes  wildly  and  would 
have  risen,  only  Leonore  was  kneeling  in  front  of  the 
chair  still. 

"Don't  excite  yourself,  Peter,"  begged  Leonore. 
«'  We'll  not  talk  of  that  now.  Not  till  you  are  better." 

"  What  are  you  here  for  ? "  cried  Peter.  "Why  did  you 
C0me ?" 

"Oh,  please,  Peter,  be  quiet." 

"Tell  me,  I  will  have  it."  Peter  was  exciting  himself, 
more  from  Leonore's  look  than  by  what  she  said. 

"Oh,  Peter.  I  made  papa  bring  me — because — Oh  !  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  to  do  something.  For  my  sake  !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you,"  sobbed  Leonore,  "to  marry 
lier.  Then  I  shall  always  think  you  were  what  I — I — • 

have  been  loving,  and  not "     Leonore  laid  her  head 

down  on  his  knee,  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

Peter  raised  Leonore  in  his  arms,  and  laid  the  little  head 
on  his  shoulder. 

'  Dear  one, "  he  said,  "  do  you  love  me  ?  " 
'Yes,"  sobbed  Leonore. 
'And  do  you  think  I  love  you  ?" 
'Yes." 

'Now  look  into  your  heart.     Could  vou  tell  me  a  lie?" 
'No." 

'Nor  can  T  you.     I  am  not  the  father  of  that  boy,  and 
J  never  wronged  his  mother." 


A  CONUNDRUM.  401 

"But  you  told "  sobbed  Leonore. 

"  I  lied  to  your  mother,  dear." 

"For  what?  "  Leonore  had  lifted  her  head,  and  there 
was  a  look  of  hope  in  her  eyes,  as  well  as  of  doubt. 

"  Because  it  was  better  at  that  time  than  the  truth.  But 
Watts  will  tell  you  that  I  lied/' 

"Papa?" 

"Yes,  Dot.     Dear  old  Peter  speaks  the  truth." 

"But  if  you  lied  to  her,  why  not  to  me  ?  " 

"I  can't  lie  to  you,  Leonore.  I  am  telling  you  the 
truth.  Won't  you  believe  me  ?" 

"  I  do,"  cried  Leonore.  "  I  know  you  speak  the  truth- 
It's  in  your  face  and  voice."  And  the  next  moment  her 
arms  were  about  Peter's  neck,  and  her  lips  were  on  his. 

Just  then  some  one  in  the  "torchlight"  shouted  * 
"What's  the  matter  wid  Stirling? " 

And  a  thousand  voices  joyfully  yelled: 

"He's  all  right." 

And  so  was  the  crowd. 


CHAPTER    LX. 
A   CONUNDRUM/ 

MR.  PIERCE  was  preparing  to  talk.  Usually  Mr.  Pierce 
was  talking.  Mr.  Pierce  had  been  talking  already,  but  it 
had  been  to  single  listeners  only,  and  for  quite  a  time  in 
the  last  three  hours  Mr.  Pierce  had  been  compelled  to  be 
silent.  But  at  last  Mr.  Pierce  believed  his  moment  had 
come.  Mr.  Pierce  thought  he  had  an  audience,  and  a 
plastic  audience  at  that.  And  these  three  circumstances 
in  combination  made  Mr.  Pierce  fairly  bubbling  with 
words.  No  longer  would  he  have  to  waste  his  precious 
wit  and  wisdom,  lete-a-tcte,  or  on  himself. 

At  first  blush  Mr.  Pierce  seemed  right  in  his  conjecture. 
Seated — in  truth,  collapsed,  on  chairs  and  lounges,  in  a  dis- 
arranged and  untidy-looking  drawing-room,  were  nearly 
twenty  very  tired-looking  people.  The  room  looked  as  if 
there  had  just  been  a  free  fight  there,  and  the  people 
looked  as  if  they  had  been  the  participants.  But  the  mul- 
26 


402  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

titude  of  flowers  and  the  gay  dresses  proved  beyond  ques- 
tion that  something  else  had  made  the  disorder  of  the 
room  and  had  put  that  exhausted  look  upon  the  faces. 

Experienced  observers  would  have  understood  it  at  a 
glimpse.  From  the  work  and  fatigues  of  this  world,  peo- 
ple had  gathered  for  a  little  enjoyment  of  what  we  call 
society.  It  is  true  that  both  the  room  and  its  occupants 
did  not  indicate  that  there  had  been  much  recreation. 
But,  then,  one  can  lay  it  down  as  an  axiom  that  the  peo- 
ple who  work  for  pleasure  are  the  hardest-working  people 
in  the  world ;  and,  as  it  is  that  for  which  society  labors, 
this  scene  is  but  another  proof  that  they  get  very  much 
fatigued  over  their  pursuit  of  happiness  and  enjoyment, 
considering  that  they  hunt  for  it  in  packs,  and  entirely  ex- 
clude the  most  delicious  intoxicant  known — usually  called 
oxygen — from  their  list  of  supplies  fr  >m  the  caterer.  Cer- 
tainly this  particular  group  did  look  exhausted  far  beyond 
the  speech-making  point.  But  this,  too,  \vas  a  deception. 
These  limp-looking  individuals  had  only  remained  in  this 
drawing-room  for  the  sole  purpose  of  "talking  it  over/' 
and  Mr.  Pierce  had  no  walk-over  before  him. 

Mr.  Pierce  cleared  his  throat  and  remarked:  "The 
development  of  marriage  customs  and  ceremonies  from 
primeval  days  is  one  of  the  most  curious  and " 

"  What  a  lovely  wedding  it  has  been  !  "  said  Dorothy, 
heaving  a  sigh  of  fatigue  and  pleasure  combined. 

"  Wasn't  it  !  "  went  up  a  chorus  from  the  whole  party, 
except  Mr.  Pierce,  who  looked  eminently  disgusted. 

"  As  I  was  remarking "  began  Mr.  Pierce  again. 

"  But  the  best  part,"  said  Watts,  who  was  lolling  on  one 
of  the  lounges,  "was  those  'sixt'  ward  presents.  As 
Mr.  Moriarty  said :  '  Begobs,  it's  hard  it  would  be  to 
find  the  equal  av  that  tureen  ! '  He  was  right  !  Its  equal 
for  ugliness  is  inconceivable." 

"  Yet  the  poor  beggars  spent  eight  hundred  dollars  on 
it,"  sighed  Lispenard,  wearily. 

"  Relative  to  the  subject "  said  Mr.  Pierce. 

"  And  Leonore  told  me,"  said  a  charmingly-dressed 
girl,  "that  she  liked  it  better  than  any  other  present  she 
had  received." 

"Oh,  she  was  more  enthusiastic,"  laughed  Watts, 
"  over  all  the  '  sixt'  ward  and  political  presents  than  she 
was  over  what  we  gave  her.  We  weren't  in  it  at  all  with 


A  CONUNDRUM.  403 

the  Micks.     She  has  come  out  as  much  a  worshipper  of 
hoi-polloi  as  Peter." 

"I  don't  believe  she  cares  a  particle  for  them,"  said 
our  old  friend,  the  gentlemanly  scoundrel ;  "  but  she  wor- 
ships them  because  they  worship  him." 

"Well,"  sighed  Lispenard,  "that's  the  way  things  go 
in  life.  There's  that  fellow  gets  worshipped  by  every 
one,  from  the  Irish  saloon-keeper  up  to  Leonore.  While 
look  at  me  !  I'm  a  clever,  sweet-tempered,  friendly  sort 
of  a  chap,  but  nobody  worships  me.  There  isn't  any  one 
who  gives  a  second  thought  for  yours  truly.  I  seem  good 
for  nothing,  except  being  best  man  to  much  luckier  chaps. 
While  look  at  Peter  !  He's  won  the  love  of  a  lovely  girl, 
who  worships  him  to  a  degree  simply  inconceivable.  I 
never  saw  such  idealization." 

"  Then  you  haven't  been  watching  Peter/'  said  Mrs. 
D'Alloi,  who,  as  a  mother,  had  no  intention  of  having  it 
supposed  that  Leonore  was  not  more  loved  than  loving. 

"  Taking  modern  marriage   as  a  basis "  said  Mr. 

Pierce. 

"  Oh/'  laughed  Dorothy,  "  there's  no  doubt  they  are  a 
pair,  and  I'm  very  proud  of  it,  because  I  did  it." 

"  Cock-a-doodle-doo  !  "  crowed  Ray. 

"  I  did,"  said  Dorothy,  "  and  my  own  husband  is  not 
the  one  to  cast  reflection  on  my  statement." 

"  He's  the  only  one  who  dares,"  said  Ogden. 
'  Well,  I  did.     Leonore  would  never  have   cared   for 
such  a  silent,  serious  man  if  I  hadn't  shown  her  that  other 
women  did,  and " 

"  Nonsense,"  laughed  Ogden.  "  It  was  Podds  did  it. 
Dynamite  is  famous  for  the  uncertainty  of  the  direction  in 
which  it  will  expend  its  force,  and  in  this  case  it  blew  in  a 
circle,  and  carried  Leonore's  heart  clear  from  Newport  to 
Peter." 

"  Or,  to  put  it  scientifically,"  said  Lispenard,  "  along 
the  line  of  least  resistance." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  Peter  was  the  one  who  did  it," 
said  Le  Grand.  "But  of  course,  as  a  bachelor,  I  can't 
expect  my  opinion  to  be  accepted." 

"  No,"  said  Dorothy.  "  He  nearly  spoiled  it  by  cheap- 
ening himself.  No  girl  will  think  a  man  is  worth  much 
who  lets  her  tramp  on  him." 

"Still,"  said  Lispenard,   "few  girls  can  resist  the  flat- 


404  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

tery  of  being  treated  by  a  man  as  if  she  is  the  only  woman 
worth  considering  in  the  world,  and  Peter  did  that  to 
an  extent  which  was  simply  disgraceful.  It  was  laughable 
to  see  the  old  hermit  become  social  the  moment  she  ap- 
peared, and  to  see  how  his  eyes  and  attention  followed 
her.  And  his  learning  to  dance  1  That  showed  how 
things  were." 

"  He  began  long  before  any  of  you  dreamed,"  said 
Mrs.  D'Alloi.  "  Didn't  he,  Watts  ?  " 

" Undoubtedly,"  laughed  Watts.  "  And  so  did  she.  I 
really  think  Leonore  did  quite  as  much  in  her  way,  as 
Peter  did.  I  never  saw  her  treat  any  one  quite  as  she 
behaved  to  Peter  from  the  very  first.  I  remember  her 
coming  in  after  her  runaway,  wild  with  enthusiam  over 
him,  and  saying  to  me  '  Oh,  I'm  so  happy.  I've  got  a 
new  friend,  and  we  are  going  to  be  such  friends  always  ! ' ' 

"That  raises  the  same  question,"  laughed  Ogden, 
"that  the  Irishman  did  about  the  street-fight,  when  he 
asked  'Who  throwed  that  last  brick  first?'" 

"  Really,  if  it  didn't  seem  too  absurd,"  said  Watts,  "I 
should  say  they  began  it  the  moment  they  met." 

"  I  don't  think  that  at  all  absurd,"  said  a  gray-haired,  re- 
fined looking  woman  who  was  the  least  collapsed  of  the 
group,  or  was  perhaps  so  well  bred  as  to  conceal  her  feel- 
ings. "  I  myself  think  it  began  before  they  even  met.  Leo- 
nore was  half  in  love  with  Peter  when  she  was  in  Europe, 
and  Peter,  though  he  knew  nothing  of  her,  was  the  kind 
of  a  man  who  imagines  an  ideal  and  loves  that.  She 
happened  to  be  his  ideal." 

"Really,  Miss  De  Voe,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  "you  must 
have  misjudged  him.  Though  Peter  is  now  my  grandson, 
I  am  still  able  to  know  what  he  is.  He  is  not  at  all  the 
kind  of  man  who  allows  himself  to  be  controlled  by  an 
ideal." 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  ever  known  Peter.  He  does 
not  let  people  perceive  what  is  underneath,"  said  Miss 
De  Voe.  "  But  of  one  thing  I  am  sure.  Nearly  every* 
thing  he  does  is  done  from  sentiment.  At  heart  he  is  an 
idealist." 

"  Oh  1 "  cried  several. 

"That  is  a  most  singular  statement,"  said  Mr.  Pierce. 
"There  is  not  a  man  I  know  who  has  less  of  the  senti- 
mental and  ideal  in  him.  An  idealist  is  a  man  of  dreams 


A   CONUNDRUM.  405 

and  romance.  Peter  is  far  too  sensible  a  fellow  to  be 
that.  There  is  nothing  heroic  or  romantic  in  him." 

" Nonsense,  Paternus"  said  Watts.  "You  don't  know 
anything  about  the  old  chap.  You've  only  seen  him  as  a 
cool  clever  lawyer.  If  your  old  definition  of  romance  is 
right :  that  it  is  *  Love,  and  the  battle  between  good  and 
evil/  Peter  has  had  more  true  romance  than  all  the  rest 
of  us  put  together. " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "You  have  merely  seen  Peter 
in  love,  and  so  you  all  think  he  is  romantic.  He  isn't. 
He  is  a  cool  man,  who  never  acts  without  weighing  his 
actions,  and  therein  has  lain  the  secret  of  his  success. 
He  calmly  marks  out  his  line  of  life,  and,  regardless  of 
everything  else,  pursues  it.  He  disregards  everything  not 
to  his  purpose,  and  utilizes  everything  that  serves.  I 
predicted  great  success  for  him  many  years  ago  when  he 
was  fresh  from  college,  simply  from  a  study  of  his  mental 
characteristics  and  I  have  proved  myself  a  prophet.  He 
has  never  made  a  slip,  legally,  politically,  or  socially.  To 
use  a  yachting  expression,  he  has  '  made  everything 
draw.'  An  idealist,  or  a  man  of  romance  and  fire  and 
impulse  could  never  succeed  as  he  has  done.  It  is  his 
entire  lack  of  feeling  which  has  led  to  his  success.  In- 
deed  " 

"I  can't  agree  with  you,"  interrupted  Dorothy,  sitting 
up  from  her  collapse  as  if  galvanized  into  life  and  speech 
by  Mr.  Pierce's  monologue.  "You  don't  understand 
Peter.  He  is  a  man  of  great  feeling.  Think  of  that 
speech  of  his  about  those  children  !  Think  of  his  conduct 
to  his  mother  as  long  as  she  lived  !  Think  of  the  good- 
ness and  kindness  he  showed  to  the  poor  !  Why,  Ray  says 
he  has  refused  case  after  case  for  want  of  time  in  recent 
years,  while  doing  work  for  people  in  his  ward  which  was 
worth  nothing.  If " 

"They  were  worth  votes,"  interjected  Mr.  Pierce. 

"Look  at  his  buying  the  Costell  place  in  Westchester 
when  Mr.  Costell  died  so  poor,  and  giving  it  to  Mrs. 
Costell,"  continued  Dorothy,  warming  with  her  subject. 
"Look  at  his  going  to  those  strikers'  families,  and  arrang- 
ing to  help  them.  Were  those  things  done  for  votes?  If 
J  could  only  tell  you  of  something  he  once  did  for  me, 
you  would  not  say  that  he  was  a  man  without  feeling." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Pierce  blandly,  "  that  he 


#o6  [  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

did  many  things  which,  on  their  face,  seemed  admirable 
and  to  indicate  feeling.  But  if  carefully  examined,  they 
would  be  found  to  have  been  advantageous  to  him.  Any 
service  he  could  have  done  to  Mrs.  Rivington  surely  did 
not  harm  him.  His  purchase  of  Costell's  place  pleased 
the  political  friends  of  the  dead  leader.  His  aiding  the 
strikers'  families  placated  the  men,  and  gained  him  praise 
from  the  press.  I  dislike  greatly  to  oppose  this  rose- 
colored  view  of  Peter,  but,  from  my  own  knowledge  of 
the  man,  I  must.  Ke  is  without  feeling,  and  necessarily 
makes  no  mistakes,  nor  is  he  led  off  from  his  own  ambitions 
by  sentiment  of  any  kind.  When  we  had  that  meeting 
with  the  strikers,  he  sat  there,  while  all  New  York  was 
seething,  with  mobs  and  dead  just  outside  the  walls,  as 
cool  and  impassive  as  a  machine.  He  was  simply  deter- 
mined that  we  should  compromise,  because  his  own  inter- 
ests demanded  it,  and  he  carried  his  point  merely  because 
he  was  the  one  cool  man  at  that  meeting.  If  he  had  had 
feeling  he  could  not  have  been  cool.  That  one  incident 
shows  the  key-note  of  his  success/' 

"And  I  say  his  strong  sympathies  and  feeling  were 
the  key-note,"  reiterated  Dorothy. 

"I  think,"  said  Pell,  "that  Peter's  great  success  lay  in 
his  ability  to  make  friends.  It  was  simply  marvellous. 
I've  seen  it,  over  and  over  again,  both  in  politics  and 
society.  He  never  seemed  to  excite  envy  or  bitterness. 
He  had  a  way  of  doing  things  which  made  people  like 
him.  Every  one  he  meets  trusts  him.  Yet  nobody  un- 
derstands him.  So  he  interests  people,  without  exciting 
hostility.  I've  heard  person  after  person  say  that  he  was 
an  uninteresting,  ordinary  man,  and  yet  nobody  ever 
seemed  to  forget  him.  Every  one  of  us  feels,  I  am  sure, 
that,  as  Miss  De  Voe  says,  he  had  within  something  he 
never  showed  people.  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  why 
he  did  or  did  not  do  hundreds  of  things.  Yet  it  always 
turned  out  that  what  he  did  was  right.  He  makes  me 
think  of  the  Frenchwoman  who  said  to  her  sister,  *  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  sister,  but  I  never  meet  any  one  who's 
always  right  but  myself/  " 

"You  have  hit  it,"  said  Ogden  Ogden,  "and  I  can 
prove  that  you  have  by  Peter's  own  explanation  of  his 
success.  I  spoke  to  him  once  of  a  rather  curious  line 
of  argument,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  which  he  was  taking 


A  CONUNDRUM.  407 

in  a  case,  and  he  said  :  'Ogden,  I  take  that  course  because 
it  is  the  way  Judge  Potter's  mind  acts.  If  you  want  to 
convince  yourself,  take  the  arguments  which  do  that  best, 
but  when  you  ha\ae  to  deal  with  judges  or  juries,  take  the 
lines  which  fit  their  capacities.  People  talk  about  my 
unusual  success  in  winning  cases.  It's  simply  because 
I  am  not  certain  that  my  way  and  my  argument  are  the 
only  way  and  the  only  argument.  I've  studied  the  judges 
closely,  so  that  I  know  wheit  lines  to  take,  and  I  always 
notice  what  seems  to  interest  the  jury  most,  in  each  case. 
But,  more  important  than  this  study,  is  the  fact  that  I  can 
comprehend  about  how  the  average  man  will  look  at  a 
certain  thing.  You  see  I  am  the  son  of  plain  people. 
Then  I  am  meeting  all  grades  of  mankind,  and  hearing 
what  they  say,  and  getting  their  points  of  view.  I  have 
never  sat  in  a  closet  out  of  touch  with  the  world  and 
decided  what  is  right  for  others,  and  then  spent  time 
trying  to  prove  it  to  them.  In  other  words,  I  have  suc- 
ceeded, because  I  am  merely  the  normal  or  average  man, 
and  therefore  am  understood  by  normal  or  average  people, 
or  by  majorities,  to  put  it  in  another  way/" 

"  But  Mr.  Stirling  isn't  a  commonplace  man,"  said  an- 
other of  the  charmingly  dressed  girls.  "  He  is  very  silent, 
and  what  he  says  isn't  at  all  clever,  but  he's  very  unusual 
and  interesting." 

" Nevertheless,"  said  Ogden,  "I  believe  he  was  right 
He  has  a  way  of  knowing  what  the  majority  of  people 
think  or  feel  about  things.  And  that  is  the  secret  of  his 
success,  and  not  his  possession  or  lack  of  feeling." 

"You  none  of  you  have  got  at  the  true  secret  of  Peter's 
success,"  said  Ray.  "It  was  his  wonderful  capacity  for 
work.  To  a  lazy  beggar  like  myself  it  is  marvellous.  I've 
known  that  man  to  work  from  nine  in  the  morning  till  one 
at  night,  merely  stopping  for  meals." 

"Yet  he  did  not  seem  an  ambitious  man,"  said  Le 
Grand.  "He  cared  nothing  for  social  success,  he  never 
has  accepted  office  till  now,  and  he  has  refused  over  and 
over  again  law  work  which  meant  big  money." 

"No,"  said  Ray.  "Peter  worked  hard  in  law  and 
politics.  Yet  he  didn't  want  office  or  money.  He  could 
more  than  once  have  been  a  judge,  and  Costell  wanted 
him  governor  six  years  ago.  He  took  the  nomination 
this  year  against  his  own  wishes.  He  cared  as  little  for 


4o8  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

money  or  reputation  in  law,  as  he  cared  for  society,  and 
would  compromise  cases  which  would  have  added 
greatly  to  his  reputation  if  he  had  let  them  go  to  trial. 
He  might  have  been  worth  double  what  he  is  to-day,  if 
he  had  merely  invested  his  money,  instead  of  letting  it  lie 
in  savings  banks  or  trust  companies.  I've  spoken  about 
it  repeatedly  to  him,  but  he  only  said  that  he  wasn't  going 
to  spend  time  taking  care  of  money,  for  money  ceased  to 
be  valuable  when  it  had  to  be  taken  care  of ;  its  sole  use 
to  him  being  to  have  it  take  care  of  him.  I  think  he 
worked  for  the  sake  of  working." 

"That  explains  Peter,  certainly.  His  one  wish  was  to 
help  others/'  said  Miss  De  Voe.  "He  had  no  desire  for 
reputation  or  money,  and  so  did  not  care  to  increase 
either. " 

"And  mark  my  words,"  said  Lispenard.  "From  this 
day,  he'll  set  no  limit  to  his  endeavors  to  obtain  both." 

"He  can't  work  harder  than  he  has  to  get  political 
power,"  said  an  usher.  "Think  of  how  anxious  he  must 
have  been  to  get  it,  when  he  would  spend  so  much  time 
in  the  slums  and  saloons  !  He  couldn't  have  liked  the 
men  he  met  there." 

"I've  taken  him  to  task  about  that,  and  told  him  he 
had  no  business  to  waste  his  time  so,"  said  Ogden  ;  "  but 
he  said  that  he  was  not  taking  care  of  other  people's  money 
or  trying  to  build  up  a  great  business,  and  that  if  he  chose 
to  curtail  his  practice,  so  as  to  have  some  time  to  work  in 
politics,  it  was  a  matter  of  personal  judgment." 

' '  I  once  asked  Peter, "  said  Miss  De  Voe,  ' '  how  he  could 
bear,  with  his  tastes  and  feelings,  to  go  into  saloons,  and 
spend  so  much  time  with  politicians,  and  with  the  low, 
uneducated  people  of  his  district.  He  said,  'That  is  my 
way  of  trying  to  do  good,  and  it  is  made  enjoyable  to  me 
by  helping  men  over  rough  spots,  or  by  preventing  polit- 
ical wrong.  I  have  taken  the  world  and  humanity  as  it 
is,  and  have  done  what  I  could,  without  stopping  to  criti- 
cise or  weep  over  shortcomings  and  sins.  I  admire  men 
who  stand  for  noble  impossibilities.  But  I  have  given 
my  own  life  to  the  doing  of  small  possibilities.  I  don't 
say  the  way  is  the  best.  But  it  is  my  way,  for  I  am  a 
worker,  not  a  preacher.  And  just  because  I  have  been 
willing  to  do  things  as  the  world  is  willing  to  have  them 
done,  power  and  success  have  come  to  me  to  do  more.' 


A  CONUNDRUM.  409 

I  believe  it  was  because  Peter  had  no  wish  for  worldly 
success,  that  it  came  to  him/' 

"You  are  all  wrong1/'  groaned  Lispenard.  "I  love 
Peter  as  much  as  I  love  my  own  kin,  with  due  apology 
to  those  of  it  who  are  present,  but  I  must  say  that  his- 
whole  career  has  been  the  worst  case  of  sheer,  downright 
luck  of  which  I  ever  saw  or  heard." 

"  Luck  !  "  exclaimed  Dorothy. 

"  Yes,  luck  !  "  said  Lispenard.  "  Look  at  it.  He  starts 
in  like  all  the  rest  of  us.  And  Miss  Luck  calls  him  in  to 
look  at  a  sick  kitten  die.  Very  ordinary  occurrence  that  t 
Health-board  report  several  hundred  every  week.  But 
Miss  Luck  knew  what  she  was  about  and  called  him  in  to 
just  the  right  kind  of  a  kitten  to  make  a  big  speech  about 
Thereupon  he  makes  it,  blackguarding  and  wiping  the 
floor  up  with  a  millionaire  brewer.  Does  the  brewer  wait 
for  his  turn  to  get  even  with  him  ?  Not  a  bit.  Miss  Luck 
takes  a  hand  in  and  the  brewer  falls  on  Peter's  breast-bone, 
and  loves  him  ever  afterwards.  My  cousin  writes  him, 
and  he  snubs  her.  Does  she  annihilate  him  as  she  would 
have  other  men  ?  No.  Miss  Luck  has  arranged  all  that, 
and  they  become  the  best  of  friends." 

"  Lispenard — "  Miss  De  Voe  started  to  interrupt  indig- 
nantly, but  Lispenard  continued,  "  Hold  on  till  I  finish. 
One  at  a  time.  Well.  Miss  Luck  gets  him  chosen  to  a 
convention  by  a  fluke  and  Peter  votes  against  Costell's- 
wishes.  What  happens  ?  Costell  promptly  takes  him  up 
and  pushes  him  for  all  he's  worth.  He  snubs  society, 
and  society  concludes  that  a  man  who  is  more  snubby 
and  exclusive  than  itself  must  be  a  man  to  cultivate.  He 
refuses  to  talk,  and  every  one  promptly  says  :  '  How 
interesting  he  is!'  He  gets  in  the  way  of  a  dynamite 
bomb.  Does  it  kill  him  ?  Certainly  not.  Miss  Luck 
has  put  an  old  fool  there,  to  protect  him.  He  swears  a 
bad  word..  Does  it  shock  respectable  people?  No  I 
Every  one  breathes  easier,  and  likes  him  the  better.  He 
enrages  and  shoots  the  strikers.  Does  he  lose  votes  ? 
Not  one.  Miss  Luck  arranges  that  the  directors  shall  yield 
things  which  they  had  sworn  not  to  yield  ;  and  the  strikers 
are  reconciled  and  print  a  card  in  praise  of  him.  i  j  ru:.3 
for  office.  Do  the  other  parties  make  a  good  fight  of  it? 
No.  They  promptly  nominate  a  scoundrelly  demagogue 
and  a  nonentity  who  thinks  votes  are  won  by  going  about 


4io  THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

in  shirtsleeves.  So  he  is  elected  by  the  biggest  plurality 
the  State  has  ever  given.  Has  Miss  Luck  done  enough? 
No.  She  at  once  sets  every  one  predicting  that  he'll  get 
the  presidential  nomination  two  years  from  now,  if  he 
cares  for  it.  Be  it  friend  or  enemy,  intentional  or  unin- 
tentional, every  one  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact  gives 
him  a  boost.  While  look  at  me  !  There  isn't  a  soul  who 
ever  gave  me  help.  It's  been  pure,  fire-with-your-eyes- 
shut  luck. 

11  Was  this  morning  luck  too  ?"  asked  a  bridesmaid. 

''Absolutely,"  sighed  Lispenard.  "And  what  luck  !  I 
always  said  that  Peter  would  never  marry,  because 
he  would  insist  on  taking  women  seriously,  and  because 
at  heart  he  was  afraid  of  them  to  a  woeful  degree,  and 
showed  it  in  such  a  way,  as  simply  to  make  women  think 
he  didn't  like  them  individually.  But  Miss  Luck  wouldn't 
allow  that.  Oh,  no  !  Miss  Luck  isn't  content  even  that 
Peter  shall  take  his  chance  of  getting  a  wife,  with  the  rest 
of  us.  She's  not  going  to  have  any  accidents  for  him. 
So  she  takes  the  loveliest  of  girls  and  trots  her  all  over 
Europe,  so  that  she  shan't  have  friends,  or  even  know 
men  well.  She  arranges  too,  that  the  young  girl  shall 
have  her  head  filled  with  Peter  by  a  lot  of  admiring  women, 
who  are  determined  to  make  him  into  a  sad,  unfortunate 
hero,  instead  of  the  successful  man  he  is.  A  regular  con- 
spiracy to  delude  a  young  girl.  Then  before  the  girl  has 
seen  anything  of  the  world,  she  trots  her  over  here.  Does 
she  introduce  them  at  a  dance,  so  that  Peter  shall  be  awk- 
ward and  silent  ?  Not  she  !  She  puts  him  where  he  looks 
his  best — on  a  horse.  She  starts  the  thing  off  romanti- 
cally, so  that  he  begins  on  the  most  intimate  footing,  be- 
fore another  man  has  left  his  pasteboard.  So  he's  way 
ahead  of  the  pack  when  they  open  cry.  Is  that  enough? 
No  !  At  the  critical  moment  he  is  called  to  the  aid  of  his 
country.  Gets  lauded  for  his  pluck.  Gets  blown  up. 
Gets  everything  to  make  a  young  girl  worship  him.  Pure 
luck  !  It  doesn't  matter  what  Peter  says  or  does.  Miss 
Luck  always  arranges  that  it  turn  up  the  winning 
card. " 

"There  is  no  luck  in  it,"  cried  Mr.  Pierce.  "  It  was  all 
due  to  his  foresight  and  shrewdness.  He  plans  things 
beforehand,  and  merely  presses  the  button.  Why,  look 
at  his  marriage  alone  ?  Does  he  fall  in  love  early  in  life, 


A  CONUNDRUM.  411 

and  hamper  himself  with  a  Miss  Nobody  ?  Not  he  !  He 
waits  till  he  has  achieved  a  position  where  he  can  pick 
from  the  best,  and  then  he  does  exactly  that,  if  you'll 
pardon  a  doating  grandfather's  saying  it." 

"Well,"  said  Watts,  "we  have  all  known  Peter  long 
enough  to  have  found  out  what  he  is,  yet  there  seems  to 
be  a  slight  divergence  of  opinion.  Are  we  fools,  or  is 
Peter  a  gay  deceiver  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  most  outspoken  man  I  ever  knew,"  said  Miss 
De  Voe. 

"But  he  tells  nothing,"  said  an  usher. 

"Yes.      He  is  absolutely  silent.,"  said  a  bridesmaid. 

"Except  when  he's  speechifying,"  said  Ray. 

"And  Leonore  says  he  talks  and  jokes  a  grec*t  deal/' 
said  Watts. 

"I  never  knew  any  one  who  is  deceiving  herself  so  about 
a  man,"  said  Dorothy.  "  It's  terrible.  What  do  you  think 
she  had  the  face  to  say  to  me  to-day  ? " 

"What?" 

"She  was  speaking  of  their  plans  after  returning  from 
the  wedding  journey,  and  she  said  :  *  I  am  going  to  have 
Peter  keep  up  his  bachelor  quarters.'  '  Does  he  say  he'll 
do  it  ?  '  I  asked.  'I  haven- 1  spoken  to  him/  she  replied, 
'  but  of  course  he  will. '  I  said  :  '  Leonore,  all  women  think 
they  rule  their  husbands,  but  they  don't  in  reality,  and 
Peter  will  be  less  ruled  than  any  man  I  know.'  Then  what 
do  you  think  she  said?" 

"Don't  keep  us  in  suspense." 

"She  said  :  '  None  of  you  ever  understood  Peter.  But 
I  do/  Think  of  it !  From  that  little  chit,  who's  known 
Peter  half  the  number  of  months  that  I've  known  him 
years  !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  sighed  Lispenard.  "  I'm  not  prepared 
to  say  it  isn't  so.  Indeed,  after  seeing  Peter,  who  never 
seemed  able  to  understand  women  till  this  one  appeared 
on  the  scene,  develop  into  a  regulation  lover,  I  am  quite 
prepared  to  believe  that  every  one  knows  more  than  I  do. 
At  the  same  time,  I  can't  afford  to  risk  my  reputation  for 
discrimination  and  insight  over  such  a  simple  thing  as 
Peter's  character.  You've  all  tried  to  say  what  Peter  is. 
Now  I'll  tell  you  in  two  words  and  you'll  all  find  you  are 
right,  and  you'll  all  find  you  are  wrong." 

"You  are  as  bad  as  Leonore,"  cried  Dorothy. 


412  THE  HONORABLE  SETER  STIRLING, 

"Well,"  said  Watts,  "we  are  all  listening.  What  is 
ffetef?" 

"  He  is  an  extreme  type  of  a  man  far  from  uncommon 
in  this  country,  yet  who  has  never  been  understood  by 
foreigners,  and  by  few  Americans." 

"Well?" 

"Peter  is  a  practical  idealist." 


CHAPTER  LXI. 
LEONORE'S  THEORY. 

AND  how  well  had  that  "talk-it-over"  group  at  the  end 
of  Peter's  wedding-day  grasped  his  character?  How 
clearly  do  we  ever  gain  an  insight  into  the  feelings  and 
motives  which  induce  conduct  even  in  those  whom  we 
best  know  and  love?  Each  had  found  something  in  Peter 
that  no  other  had  discovered.  We  speak  of  rose-colored 
glasses,  and  Shakespeare  wrote,  "  All  things  are  yellow  to 
a  jaundiced  eye."  When  we  take  a  bit  of  blue  glass,  and 
place  it  with  yellow,  it  becomes  green.  When  we  put  it 
with  red,  it  becomes  purple.  Yet  blue  it  is  all  the  time. 
Is  not  each  person  responsible  for  the  tint  he  seems  to  pro- 
duce in  others  ?  Can  we  ever  learn  that  the  thing  is  blue, 
^ndthat  the  green  or  purple  aspect  is  only  the  tinge  which 
we  ourselves  help  to  give?  Can  we  ever  learn  that  we 
love  and  are  loved  entirely  as  we  give  ourselves  colors 
which  may  harmonize  with  those  about  us  ?  That  love, 
wins  love  ;  kindness,  kindness ;  hate,  hate.  That  just 
such  elements  as  we  give  to  the  individual,  the  individual 
gives  back  to  us  ?  That  the  sides  we  show  are  the  sides 
seen  by  the  world.  There  were  people  who  could  truly 
believe  that  Peter  was  a  ward  boss ;  a  frequenter  of 
saloons ;  a  drunkard ;  a  liar ;  a  swearer ;  a  murderer,  in 
intention,  if  not  in  act  ;  a  profligate  ;  and  a  compromiser 
of  many  of  his  own  strongest  principles.  Yet  there  were 
people  who  could  say  other  things  of  him. 

But  more  important  than  the  opinion  of  Peter's  friends, 
and  of  the  world,  was  the  opinion  of  Peter's  wife.  Was 
she  right  in  her  theory  that  she  was  the  only  one  who 
understood  him?  Or  had  she,  as  he  had  once  done, 


LEONORE'S  THEORY.  413 

reared  an  ideal,  and  given  that  ideal  the  love  which  she 
supposed  she  was  giving  Peter  ?  It  is  always  a  problem 
in  love  to  say  whether  we  love  people  most  for  the  qual- 
ities they  actually  possess,  or  for  those  with  which  our  own 
love  endows  them.  Here  was  a  young  girl,  inexperienced 
in  world  and  men,  joyfully  sinking  her  own  life  in  that  of  a 
man  whom,  but  a  few  months  before,  had  been  only  a  mat- 
ter of  hearsay  to  her.  Yet  she  had  apparently  taken  him, 
as  women  will,  for  better,  for  worse,  till  death,  as  trust- 
fully as  if  he  and  men  generally  were  as  knowable  as  A 
B  C,  instead  of  as  unknown  as  the  algebraic  X.  Only  once 
had  she  faltered  in  her  trust  of  him,  and  then  but  for  a 
moment.  How  far  had  her  love,  and  the  sight  of  Peter's 
misery,  led  her  blindly  to  renew  that  trust?  And  would 
it  hold  ?  She  had  seen  how  little  people  thought  of  that 
scurrilous  article,  and  how  the  decent  papers  had  passed 
it  over  without  a  word.  But  she  had  also  seen  the  scan- 
dal harped  upon  by  partisans  and  noted  that  Peter  failed 
to  vindicate  himself  publicly,  or  vouchsafe  an  explanation 
to  her.  Had  she  taken  Peter  with  trust  or  doubt,  knowl- 
edge or  blindness? 

Perhaps  a  conversation  between  the  two,  a  week  later, 
will  answer  these  questions.  It  occurred  on  the  deck  of  a 
vessel.  Yet  this  parting  glimpse  of  Peter  is  very  different 
from  that  which  introduced  him.  The  vessel  is  not  drift- 
ing helplessly,  but  its  great  screw  is  whirling  it  towards 
the  island  of  Martinique,  as  if  itself  anxious  to  reach  that 
fairy  land  of  fairy  lands.  Though  the  middle  of  Novem- 
ber, the  soft  warmth  of  the  tropics  is  in  the  air.  Nor  are 
the  sea  and  sky  now  leaden.  The  first  is  turned  into  liquid 
gold  by  the  phosphorescence,  and  the  full  moon  silvers 
everything  else.  Neither  is  Peter  pacing  the  deck  with 
lines  of  pain  and  endurance  on  his  face.  He  is  up  in  the 
bow,  where  the  vessel's  forefoot  throws  up  the  white  foam 
in  silver  drops  in  the  moonlight.  And  he  does  not  look 
miserable.  Anything  but  that.  He  is  sitting  on  an  an- 
chor stock,  with  his  back  comfortably  braced  against  the 
rail.  Another  person  is  not  far  distant.  What  that  person 
sits  upon  and  leans  against  is  immaterial  to  the  nar- 
rative. 

"  Why  don't  you  smoke  ? "  asked  that  person. 

"I'm  too  happy,"  said  Peter,  in  a  voice  evidencing  the 
truth  of  his  words. 


THE  HONORABLE  PETER  STIRLING. 

"  Will  you  if  I  bite  off  the  end  ?  "  asked  Eve,  Jr.,  placing 
temptation  most  temptingly. 

"I  like  the  idea  exceedingly,"  said  Peter.  "But  my 
right  arm  is  so  very  pleasantly  placed  that  it  objects  to 
moving. " 

"  Don't  move  it.  I  know  where  they  are.  I  even  know 
about  the  matches."  And  Peter  sat  calmly  while  his 
pockets  were  picked.  He  even  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sen- 
sation of  that  small  hand  rummaging  in  his  waistcoat 
poclgfts.  "  You  see,  dear,  that  I  am  learning  your  ways," 
Leonore  continued,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  suggested 
that  that  was  the  chief  end  of  woman.  Perhaps  it  is. 
The  Westminster  catechism  only  tells  us  the  chief  end 
of  man. 

"There.     Now  are  you  really  happy ?" 

"  I  don't  know  anybody  more  so." 

"Then,  dear,  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

"  The  wish  is  reciprocal.  But  what  have  we  been  doing 
for  six  days  ? " 

"We've  been  telling  each  other  everything,  just  as  we 
ought.  But  now  I  want  to  ask  two  favors,  dear." 

"  I  don't  think  that's  necessary.  Just  tell  me  what  they 
are." 

"Yes.  These  favors  are.  Though  I  know  you'll  say 
'yes.'" 

"Well?" 

"  First.  I  want  you  always  to  keep  your  rooms  just  as 
they  are  ? " 

"Dear-heart,  after  our  six  weeks'  trip,  we  must  be  in 
Albany  for  three  years,  and  when  we  come  back  to  New 
York,  we'll  have  a  house  of  course." 

"  Yes.  But  I  want  you  to  keep  the  rooms  just  as  they 
are,  because  I  love  them.  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  feel 
the  same  for  any  other  place.  It  will  be  very  convenient 
to  have  them  whenever  we  want  to  run  down  from 
Albany.  And  of  course  you  must  keep  up  with  the 
ward.  *' 

"But  you  don't  suppose,  after  we  are  back  in  New- 
York,  that  I'll  stay  down  there,  with  you  uptown  ?  " 

"Oh,  no!  Of  course  not.  Peter!  How  absurd  you 
are  !  But  I  shall  go  down  very  often.  Sometimes  we'll 
give  little  dinners  to  real  friends.  And  sometimes,  when 
we  want  to  get  away  from  people,  we'll  dine  by  ourselves 


LEONORE'S  THEORY.  415 

and  spend  the  night  there.  Then  whenever  you  want  to 
be  at  the  saloons  or  primaries  we'll  dine  together  there 
and  I'll  wait  for  you.  And  then  I  think  I'll  go  down 
sometimes,  when  I'm  shopping,  and  lunch  with  you.  I'll 
promise  not  to  bother  you.  You  shall  go  back  to  your 
work,  and  I'll  amuse  myself  with  your  flowers,  and  books, 
till  you  are  ready  to  go  uptown.  Then  we'll  ride  to- 
gether. " 

^<  Lispenard  frightened  me  the  other  day,  but  you 
frighten  me  worse/' 

"How?" 

"  He  said  you  would  be  a  much  lovelier  woman  at 
thirty  than  you  are  now." 

"And  that  frightened  you  ?  "  laughed  Leonore. 

"  Terribly.  If  you  are  that  I  shall  have  to  give  up  law 
and  politics  entirely,  so  as  to  see  enough  of  you." 

"But  what  has  that  to  do  with  my  lunching  with  you  ? " 

"Do  you  think  I  could  work  at  law  with  you  in  the 
next  room  ? " 

"Don't  you  want  me?  I  thought  it  was  such  a  nice 
plan." 

"It  is.  If  your  other  favor  is  like  that  I  shan't  know 
what  to  say.  I  shall  merely  long  for  you  to  ask  favors." 

"This  is  very  different.  Will  you  try  to  understand 
me?" 

"I  shan't  misunderstand  you,  at  all  events."  Which 
was  a  crazy  speech  for  any  man  to  make  any  woman. 

"Then,  dear,  I  want  to  speak  of  that  terrible  time — 
only  for  a  moment,  dear.  You  mustn't  think  I  don't  be- 
lieve what  you  said.  I  do  !  I  do  !  Every  word  of  it,  and 
to  prove  it  to  you  I  shall  never  speak  of  it  again.  But 
when  I've  shown  you  that  I  trust  you  entirely,  some  stormy 
evening,  when  we've  had  the  nicest  little  dinner  together 
at  your  rooms,  and  I've  given  you  some  coffee,  and  bitten 
your  cigar  for  you,  I  shall  put  you  down  before  the  fire, 
and  sit  down  in  your  lap,  as  I  am  doing  now,  and  put  my 
arms  about  your  neck  so,  and  put  my  cheek  so.  And 
then  I  want  you,  without  my  asking  to  tell  me  why  you 
told  mamma  that  lie,  and  all  about  it." 

"Dear-heart,"  said  Peter,  "I  cannot  tell.     I  promised." 

"Oh,  but  that  didn't  include  your  wife,  dear,  of  course. 
Besides,  Peter,  friends  should  tell  each  other  everything. 
And  we  are  the  best  of  friends,  aren't  we  ? " 


4l6  THE  HONORABLE  PETEK  STIRLING. 

"And  if  I  don't  tell  my  dearest  friend?" 

"  I  shall  never  speak  of  it,  Peter,  but  I  know  sometimes 
when  I  am  by  myself  I  shall  cry  over  it.  Not  because  I 
doubt  you,  dear,  but  because  you  won't  give  me  your 
confidence." 

"Do  you  know,  Dear-heart,  that  I  can't  bear  the  thought 
of  your  doing  that  1 " 

"  Of  course  not,  dear.  That's  the  reason  I  tell  you.  1 
knew  you  couldn't  bear  it." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  I  understand  you,  dear.  I  know  just  what 
you  are.  I'm  the  only  person  who  does/' 

"Tell  me  what  I  am." 

"I  think,  dear,  that  something  once  came  into  your 
life  that  made  you  very  miserable,  and  took  away  all  your 
hope  and  ambition.  So,  instead  of  trying  to  make  a  great 
position  or  fortune,  you  tried  to  do  good  to  others.  You 
found  that  you  could  do  the  most  good  among  the  poor 
people,  so  you  worked  among  them.  Then  you  found 
that  you  needed  money,  so  you  worked  hard  to  get  that. 
Then  you  found  that  you  could  help  most  by  working  in 
politics,  so  you  did  that.  And  you  have  tried  to  gain 
power  so  as  to  increase  your  power  for  good.  I  know 
you  haven't  liked  a  great  deal  you  have  had  to  do.  I 
know  that  you  much  prefer  to  sit  before  your  study  fire 
and  read  than  sit  in  saloons.  I  know  that  you  would 
rather  keep  away  from  tricky  people  than  to  ask  or  take 
their  help.  But  you  have  sacrificed  your  own  feelings 
and  principles  because  you  felt  that  they  were  not  to  be 
considered  if  you  could  help  others.  And,  because  people 
have  laughed  at  you  or  misunderstood,  you  have  become 
silent  and  unsocial,  except  as  you  have  believed  your 
mixing  with  the  world  to  be  necessary  to  accomplish 
good/' 

"  What  a  little  idealist  we  are  !  " 

"Well,  dear,  that  isn't  all  the  little  idealist  has  found 
out.  She  knows  something  else.  She  knows  that  all  his 
life  her  ideal  has  been  waiting  and  longing  for  some  one 
who  did  understand  him,  so  that  he  can  tell  her  all  his 
hopes  and  feelings,  and  that  at  last  he  has  found  her,  and 
she  will  try  to  make  up  for  all  the  misery  and  sacrifice  he 
has  endured.  She  knows,  too,  that  he  wants  to  tell  her 
everything.  You  mustn't  think,  dear,  that  it  was  only 


LEONOR&S  THEORY.  417 

prying  which  made  me  ask  you  so  many  questions.  I— 
I  really  wasn't  curious  except  to  see  if  you  would  an- 
swer, for  I  felt  that  you  didn't  tell  other  people  your  real 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  so,  whenever  you  told  me,  it 
was  really  getting  you  to  say  that  you  loved  me.  You 
wanted  me  to  know  what  you  really  are.  And  that  was 
why  I  knew  that  you  told  me  the  truth  that  night.  And 
that  is  the  reason  why  I  know  that  some  day  you  will  tell 
me  about  that  lie." 

Peter,  whatever  he  might  think,  did  not  deny  the  correct- 
ness of  Leonore's  theories  concerning  his  motives  in  the 
past  or  his  conduct  in  the  future.  He  kissed  the  soft 
cheek  so  near  him,  tenderly,  and  said  : 

"  I  like  your  thoughts  about  me,  dear  one." 
"Of  course  you  do,"   said  Leonore.      "You  said  once 
that  when  you  had  a  fine  subject  it  was  always  easy  to 
make  a  fine  speech.     It's  true,  too,  of  thoughts,  dear." 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
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